One Christmas Eve
by pattyrose
Summary: "She and I are way too opposite. We would've never worked." Better watch what you say while the magic of Christmas Eve swirls all around you. ExB.
1. Chapter 1

**A/N: So…a plot bunny smacked me over the head during the night. Like, I literally woke up with visions of this story dancing in my head. I don't plan for this to be long at all, but we know how that usually goes for me, don't we?**

 **I'm feeling a bit stressed lately, for a variety of reasons. Writing relieves my stress, but at the same time, it doesn't allow for extremely long or complicated plotlines. Which is why** _ **In the Mist**_ **was relatively short (for me, lol).**

 **FAQ in the A/N after the closing.**

 **Most characters belong to S. Meyer. The rest belong to me. All mistakes are mine as well.**

* * *

 **One Christmas Eve - Chapter 1**

"I object, Your Honor. Those terms are completely ridiculous! You can't notify people on Christmas Eve that they're being evicted from their homes exactly one month after Christmas!"

"Counselor Swan, this isn't-"

"I mean, Jesus Christ, it's like you're trying your best to be a heartless asshole here."

"Counselor Swan," Judge Weber said again, "while you're in my private chambers, you'll watch your language, and you'll watch how you speak to your fellow Counselors." Her tone was infused with a warning I already knew Counselor Swan wouldn't heed.

That last accusation from Counselor Swan's fiery mouth was directed at me. From across the large, oval mahogany wood table where we negotiated terms, I held Counselor Swan's gaze. Her dainty little nostrils flared. Her smooth forehead furrowed so deeply it made her rich, dark eyes narrow into slits; it disappointed me because after so many weeks of working together – or should I say, of working against one another – I'd learned to enjoy the flames that danced in her big, coffee-toned eyes when she was angry; which was often.

Yet, the way her naturally-caramel complexion took on a darker shade of scarlet as her cheeks burned with indignation sort of made up for the loss of her wide, combustible gaze. Then, there was her hair, a riot of sable that drove me nuts at its calmest as it cascaded past her shoulders. It swayed back and forth like ocean waves whenever she shook her head with vigor. Counselor Isabella Swan was almost too distracting to argue against in a court of law. Almost.

She leaned across the table. "Counselor Cullen, you and your callous clients can't possibly expect me to deliver such a harsh notice to my clients on Christmas Eve."

Straightening the legal documents in front of me, I imitated her posture and leaned across the table as well, which brought our faces so close together I saw the different shades that produced her bewitching eye color – brown, hazel, gold. I sighed in what was admittedly an exaggerated manner meant to piss her off all the more.

"Counselor Swan, since I – and by extension, my clients – already won this lawsuit," I smirked, bouncing a finger over the legally-binding documents between us, "by law, I actually _can_ expect you to deliver our notice. Moreover, I certainly do expect it."

Admittedly, I more than enjoyed the way her gaze darkened impossibly further right before my eyes – brown, gold, and hazel morphed into ebony like Christmas fucking magic itself. My heart rate – as well as other parts of me – spiked furiously as I awaited what was sure to be Christmas Eve fireworks.

My fellow practitioner of the law did not disappoint. When she opened that mouth again – that pouty-lipped, heart-shaped mouth – her voice was low, deadly and full of a heat that bathed me from across the table.

"You, Edward Cullen, are the most insensitive, ruthless prick I've ever met, and you'd give Ebenezer fucking Scrooge a run for his money."

Ahh, there it was – the big pay-off. Isabella Swan was fucking gorgeous when she was furious. Actually, I was pretty sure she was gorgeous all the time, though I'd yet to see her anything less than exasperated.

"COUNSELOR SWAN, ENOUGH!" Judge Weber banged her open palm repeatedly on the wooden table. "I warned you! Now, you'll be fined for using that language in my chambers!"

Either way, none of it, not her brains nor her beauty nor her mouth had prevented me from kicking her ass – figuratively – in court a few weeks ago. It was to be expected, of course. After all, I was the better lawyer – Princeton University Grad to her City University of New York degree. Private Law firm to her admirable – yet highly unprofitable – job with a nonprofit dedicated to helping the economically disadvantaged.

She scowled at me, shaking that head again, hair swinging like a pendulum once more as she pulled back, crossed her arms against her chest, and snorted.

"Unbelievable. Five families, a total of _fourteen_ individuals and _five_ pets – two dogs, a cat, and two birds – will be displaced come the new year so that your clients, a family of _three_ , can tear down my clients' one-bedroom, rent-stabilized apartments and build themselves a seven-thousand-square-foot lair, complete with seven bedrooms, four bathrooms, a gym, and-"

"and a library," I finished for her, pulling back as well. Again, I sighed. "Yes, Counselor Swan. We already went over this in court ad nauseam, and again, I must remind you that I – by which I mean my clients – won the case. They bought the building two years ago-"

"For a shit price because it was falling apart," Counselor Swan spat, "and then they did nothing to improve my clients' living conditions."

"Isabella," Judge Weber warned again.

"The price they paid for the building and its condition at the time of purchase is irrelevant. My clients own the building, and after two years of legal battles, which cost them a pretty penny, and which took them from one court to another, this court ruled for my client."

Isabella swept her accusing gaze in Judge Weber's direction.

"I had no choice, Isabella," Judge Weber said. "The law was on their side."

Again, Isabella shook her head. "It's a crappy law that'll displace five families, who are already barely making ends meet, doing nothing more than minding their business while trying to live the American dream so that one rich, spoiled family can come along and-"

"Hold on a second there, Counselor," I said, putting up a palm to halt her tirade. "My clients are trying to do the same thing: live the American dream. They were immigrants to this country themselves, who worked hard to get to where they are now."

"To get to be slumlords?" she snarled.

I glared at her. The woman was gorgeous. But at times, she could be exasperating as hell.

In illustration, I threw up my hands. "Why are we arguing this again? All this was hashed out in court, and _once more_ ," I stressed, "I'll remind you that my clients won. Now, they're simply exercising their right to give notice."

"On Christmas Eve, Edward?"

A startling shiver ran through me at her use of my first name, but I kept my expression impassive.

"They're exercising their right to give notice on Christmas Eve, and only allowing my clients thirty days to evacuate the apartments!"

"Isabella," Judge Weber cut in, "by law, that's all they're required to give. Counselor Swan," she said much more sympathetically, "Counselor Cullen is correct; all this was already hashed out. The law is on his clients' side. Look, I don't like it either, but the law is the law."

"Sometimes, the law is bullshit, and those who abuse it are assholes." Counselor Swan glared at me.

"Isabella," Judge Weber sighed, "as I said, I don't like this either, but don't make it worse by forcing me to fine you again. They have thirty days, Isabella. Give them notice."

OOOOO

Once outside Judge Weber's private chambers, I pulled my cell phone out of my brown wool Burberry coat, anxious to check my messages after ninety-minutes of a forced withdrawal. As I scrolled through the phone, I shook my head, clearing Counselor Swan's eyes, hair, and mouth from it so that I could refocus on what was important.

Isabella was a late addition to the legal battle between my clients and the residents of the tenement they wished to turn into their private residence. For a while, the residents attempted to represent themselves. And I had to give it to them; they'd put up a good fight. However, as the case was tossed from court to court, and it became more and more obvious that all that was occurring was the judges' attempts to wash their hands of a legal decision they balked at making, the residents of 1225 Milagro Street gave it one more go and finally hired an expert to represent them. She got close; I'll give her that. She brought up good points, made some great, heartfelt arguments. But in the end, as Judge Weber pointed out, the law was simply on our side.

Nevertheless, throughout the few months in which I dealt with Counselor Swan, she got under my skin in a way few people rarely did. It got to the point where it was all I could do to keep my head in the game while in a courtroom with her. Truthfully, I was immensely grateful that that law actually was on our side because toward the end there, I'm not even sure if I made sense anymore.

Needless to say, I wasn't sure how I felt about the confusion she wrought on my mind. I was twenty-nine years old, at the top of my game, and so fucking close to making partner I could practically smell the expensive leather and wood from the corner office awaiting me. The last thing I needed was a distraction, and Isabella Swan was definitely a distraction.

So, I pushed her out of my mind as I made a mental note of all the calls, texts, and emails I had to return – and almost all of them business-related despite it being Christmas Eve. But that was fine. I'd made my choices a while ago, and my career was at the forefront.

Nevertheless, some wistful part of me made me click on my Facebook app, a slight curiosity regarding how those few friends and family I had were spending their Christmas Eve. Just then, however, as I stood in the middle of the hallway with my eyes glued to my phone, I heard her familiar voice, her words furiously strangled. When I looked up, Counselor Swan was headed my way. She was on her cellphone and distractedly unaware of her surroundings.

"…bad enough they're being evicted in thirty days, he's forcing me to deliver the news on Christmas Eve!" She stopped talking and paused in her steps. "Emmett, I don't know what time I'll get there. I'm not exactly going to drop that bombshell and then run off to my holiday merriment, am I?"

Wrapped in a white, ivory coat and wearing a matching hat and gloves, had I really been a believer in Christmas magic, Counselor Swan would've reminded me of a Christmas fairy.

But I wasn't. So, she didn't.

Instead, I meant to look back down at my phone and return to my business, ignore her business, and stop wondering who the hell this Emmett dude was, to who she was pouring out her bleeding, little heart. It wasn't my concern. After all, once her clients evacuated my clients' building in thirty days, I wouldn't have to deal with Isabella Swan again – unless another trial brought us together once more.

It was ridiculous how hopeful that thought made me.

Before I could look away from her, I caught sight of Isabella's features. Her expression was morose, to say the least. Eyes downcast in a way I'd never seen them, her shoulders sagged in defeat as she fisted her hair.

"I swear, Emmett, it's nights like this one that make me miserable."

She looked up so suddenly that had I been a weaker man, my breath might've hitched. When she caught sight of me, the despondency in her gaze morphed into that familiar fury that admittedly turned me on.

"I gotta go, Emmett. Scrooge himself is right here, and I don't need him listening in on my convo." As she hung up her phone, she glared at me and passed me by.

I should've let her go.

Instead, I followed and fell in step beside her quick stride, while her eyes remained front and center.

"To be clear, if you speak that loudly, you can't be surprised when others in the vicinity listen in on your convo."

"Shouldn't you be off kicking puppies or taking candy away from babies somewhere?"

"First, if it makes any difference, it wasn't my choice to give notice tonight. Second, I'm no expert at babies, but I don't think they should be having candy anyway."

"So, you do take their candy and kick puppies."

"Of course, that's what you'd get from that. And no, I don't."

"You delivered your clients' decree with no issue."

"They're my clients, Counselor," I said. "You know very well how it works. I simply do their bidding."

Here, she stopped and rounded on me. "That's bullshit, and you know it. We're called Counselors for a reason – we give _counsel_. Tell them to wait after the new year and to at least give them ninety days to clear out."

"Boy, you don't ask for much, do you?"

"No, I don't," she spat. "It's the very least one set of human beings who are displacing another set of human beings can do."

"It's not going to happen, Counselor."

She glared at me, those nostrils flaring again before turning away and resuming her stride.

"You rich people have no frikkin' clue what real life is like, do you? Living from one paycheck to another, struggling to make ends meet and then coming home to your tiny apartment, which you can barely afford, yet being so damn grateful you have that, at least."

"Look, I'm sorry you were fined in those chambers." I reached into my pocket and pulled out my wallet. "Let me pay your fine since it was basically my fault-"

Again, she stopped. This time, she gazed at me incredulously. "Is that what you think this is about, Edward? The fucking fine? I would've paid twenty times that fine if it would've given those families some more time in their homes; if it would've allowed them to at the very least spend their holidays in peace without the knowledge that they'll have to clear out in thirty days hanging over their heads." Her voice broke, and she looked down at my leather wallet as if to hide her emotion. But then, she sneered back up at me. "Put your fat wallet away. I don't need you to pay a thing for me, Edward Cullen."

I sighed and closed my wallet, returning it to my pocket. "Isabella, you're taking this way too personally. Look, why don't we go grab a cup of coffee or something?" I startled myself with the invitation. Yet, once it was out there, I didn't even regret it. Instead, my mouth simply kept moving and expanded on it. "Or we could have dinner and drinks, and afterward, maybe we can…"

At the look of righteous indignation which overspread her beautiful features, I trailed off, having no idea how I'd meant to end that train of thought. For a few, bewildering seconds, she locked me in her gaze so tightly I could barely breathe, much less verbalize.

"First of all, I never gave you permission to address me by my first name."

"That's a bit hypocritical when you've addressed me by my first name more than once."

She talked right over me. "Second, you do realize it's Christmas Eve, don't you?"

"Of course, I do. You've reminded me about twenty times in the past ninety minutes."

She reeled back in outrage, tilting her head sideways. "Then, don't you think I'd prefer to spend the evening with my family and friends rather than with yours?"

When I didn't reply, she snorted, and half her upper lip twisted in a snarl.

"Wait a minute; you weren't even inviting me to spend Christmas Eve with your family and friends, were you? You were inviting me out for…for what? A quick screw with one of the plebeians before you ran off to enjoy your holidays with your fellow Bourgeoisie? Scrooge screws over Bob Cratchit, and I'm supposed to screw him in return?"

Her assumptions about me, about my holiday plans, and the vague image of _Emmett_ dancing in my head made me retort in a caustic manner meant to piss her off even more than per usual.

"Hey, Tiny Tim, quit calling me Scrooge. And for your information, I wasn't inviting you out for a screw. If I wanted a screw, I could look elsewhere. Furthermore, how I spend my holidays is none of your damn business. Just because I don't choose to go through life with sugar-fucking-plums dancing in my head," I bounced the tips of my fingers against my temple in illustration, "and pretending everything should be fair and equal for the masses doesn't give you the right to talk so much garbage. Maybe if you climbed off of your moral high horse for a minute, Miss High and Mighty, you'd realize that life is _never_ fair, and trying to make it so is a useless – and unprofitable, I might mention – endeavor. Then, maybe you could finally move on from your shitty, nonprofit job, which obviously makes you miserable, into something more productive."

For a long while, Isabella…Counselor Swan simply stared at me, all expression wiped from her gaze, her eyes strangely impassive.

"Perhaps…" she finally said, her words measured and careful in a way I'd never heard from her usually impulsive mouth, "perhaps I don't know you very well, Counselor Cullen. And I must say, you don't know me very well at all either if you think my _nonprofit_ job is what makes me miserable. Moreover, with how much you and I argue, I think it's best we keep it that way."

"You're probably right," I agreed coolly. "Forgive me. I don't know what came over me. Blame it on Christmas Eve magic," I sneered sarcastically, "but you're correct; you and I definitely don't need to know one another beyond what we already do." Swallowing, I forced myself to hold her gaze, and I forced to mind all those reasons why yes, she was right.

Counselor Swan nodded. "I'm glad we agree on that much, at least." Then, straightening her shoulders and lifting her chin, a woman who couldn't be more than five-foot-five abruptly seemed to tower over my six-foot-two frame.

"I shall deliver your clients' notice, Counselor Cullen. I suppose we'll have to meet once or twice in between, but thankfully, in thirty days' time…we'll be done with one another unless another case comes along."

A few minutes earlier, that had been my very thought. Yet, I felt a hint of disappointment now to know that's how _she_ felt.

I nodded wordlessly.

"Merry Christmas," she smirked. Then turning around, Counselor Swan stalked away.

OOOOO

"Infuriating damn woman. The nerve of her, to assume so much…and then to turn me down! To think I was asking her out to…"

I shook my head, as much to shake the snow off my hair as to shake her out of my mind. But the fact that I was still talking to myself about her as I strode furiously into the lobby of my Central Park West apartment wasn't a good sign of my success.

"As if I didn't have people I could call if that's what I-"

"Mr. Cullen, sir, everything good?"

I stopped in the middle of the marble-floored lobby and turned around, my brow furrowing at the unfamiliar middle-aged face standing at the Concierge desk.

"George, sir," the man said, pointing at the name emblazoned on his uniform pocket.

"Oh. Hi…George," I said. "Where's Mike?"

"Mike has been on vacation all week, sir. Didn't you notice? He'll be on vacation through the new year."

"Oh," I repeated, neither caring very much nor having noted the difference, though Mike was dark-haired and in his thirties or thereabouts, while this man was completely gray-haired and at least in his eighties.

"All right, then. Happy…holidays." I made to resume my stride toward the penthouse elevator.

"Is everything okay, sir?"

With a silent sigh, I stopped again and once more turned toward George. If I'd been taught one good thing by my nannies while my parents jetted around the world, it was to respect the elderly.

He smiled. "You just seem…quite upset this Christmas Eve, and it being such a magical evening, I hate the thought of anyone being so upset."

I tried not to roll my eyes at the _magical evening_ nonsense. "It's nothing." Waving off his concern, I turned back around. But then…for some reason, I turned back toward George.

With slow, measured steps, I made my way toward the concierge desk. And then, I found myself confessing to a perfect stranger.

"I argued with a woman this evening."

George chuckled heartily, revealing a set of perfectly white teeth, which were surprising for a gentleman his age.

"Isn't that usually the cause of a man's bad humor?"

I allowed a small chuckle of my own in return. "She's…infuriating, to say the least. Thinks she's morally superior, swears she's always right, refuses to lose even after she's already lost!" I raked a hand through my snow-dampened hair and swallowed. "And she's so intelligent and strong-willed and…beautiful."

George looked at me through a set of amused brown eyes which appeared too young for his lined face.

"We were opposing lawyers on a case regarding a tenement in the Lower East Side which the owners are converting into a private home for themselves. She lost. I asked her out."

"When, tonight?" George asked. "Christmas Eve?"

"Yes."

"Don't you have plans with family and friends?"

"No."

He frowned slightly. "Doesn't she?"

"She has plans with _somebody_." I shrugged carelessly – or feigning a lack of care. "She turned me down."

Again, George offered me a hearty chuckle. Strangely enough, I found myself chuckling with him yet again.

"Anyway," I said, sobering, "it's for the best."

"Is it? How come?"

"She's not what I need – not now or in the future. See, I'm a career-minded and obviously well-off guy." I stretched my arms around our opulent surroundings. "Meanwhile, she can't seem to think of herself or her own well-being in any way, shape, or form."

"Why, because she wants to help those in need?"

"Helping those in need is all well and good, George – in theory," I qualified. "In reality, you've got to help yourself because no one else will."

George was silent.

"Anyway," I said, shifting my feet, " as I said, it's all good. She and I are way too opposite, and we would've never worked."

"Are you sure about that?"

"Totally."

"O-kay. If you say so. Enjoy your Christmas Eve, Mr. Cullen, and remember what you just said."

There was something peculiar about George's tone – it was one of those tones people tended to use when they knew something you didn't. Which, of course, made no sense. When George grinned widely, he showcased those pearly-white teeth again – teeth almost as white as the freshly falling snow outside; so white, in fact, I could've sworn I saw the flash and chime of a sparkle on the top of his front tooth, just like in one of those toothpaste commercials.

Looking away from him, I cast my gaze toward the large window overlooking Central Park…where the falling snow sparkled like twinkling, silver stars.

I shook the stupid thoughts – a pair of many so far that evening – out of my mind, and snorted.

"You okay there, Mr. Cullen?" George asked yet again.

"Yeah. Yeah, I'm just fine. I'm losing my mind, that's all, and it's all her fault. Good night, George. Enjoy your evening as well." Turning around with finality, I headed for my elevator.

Yet…as the elevator made its way up to my penthouse, butterflies tickling the pit of my stomach, I had the strangest sensation that those butterflies were caused by more than the quick ascent.

* * *

 **A/N: Thoughts?**

 **FAQs:**

 **How long will the story be?:**

 _ **I don't know. Three chapters? Thirty?**_

 **What's the update schedule:**

 _ **Whenever I can update, my loves.**_

 **Will I cry while reading?:**

 _ **Well, it's a Christmas story, which I plan to be mostly light-hearted, so I don't think so. Probably not too much, if at all; certainly nowhere near In the Mist levels, lol. It depends on each individual person. (Yes, I qualified the hell out of that, didn't I?) All that being said, I'm me. ;) Plus, I'm writing this as I go, so although I have a basic outline in my head, the particulars are still to be decided/written.**_

 **Is it HEA?:**

 _ **Go to my FF profile for my view on HEAs. :)**_

 **Twitter: PattyRosa817**

 **Facebook: Stories by PattyRose**

" **See" you soon.**


	2. Chapter 2

**A/N: Thanks so much for all your wonderful thoughts!**

 **Most characters belong to S. Meyer. The rest belong to me. All mistakes are mine as well.**

* * *

 **One Christmas Eve – Chapter 2**

"We're almost there, Edward. Keep going."

"Oh, I intend to, baby."

The snow-covered, mountainous landscape whirred past me, every moment it's steep terrain inclining at a sharper and sharper angle.

"We're almost at the top, Edward. Keep going."

"Bring it!"

The snow-cap came into view, glowing in the moonlight and bathed in fresh, powdery precipitation while a riot of flurries danced around its peak. I grinned at the sight, my breaths erupting fast and furiously. But, by then, the burn in my quads and hamstrings, the ache in my glutes, and the throb in my hips were nothing to the pure exhilaration, to that sweet runner's high where nothing hurt, nothing else mattered, and not even the arduous slope could slow me down. Instead, I picked up my pace, swung my arms back and forth with a fucking vengeance, and I climbed the damn mountain all the way to the summit.

"Congratulations, Edward! You've reached the top of the mountain in a five-mile run, and you've surpassed your previous time. Shall I reset the run?"

"Yes. Reset please."

The NordicTrack's screen before me went black. In the next moment, it displayed the home screen – a picture I'd uploaded of Central Park West's summer view from my bedroom window.

"Your information is saved, and your run has been reset. Would you like to complete a different run, Edward?" my NordicTrack's somewhat robotic yet feminine voice asked. "We can travel to the Swiss Alps, the French Alps, the beaches of Thailand, the Brazilian Rainforest, or even closer to your New York City home, where we can run through Central Park or the Appalachians. Or, you can pick any place in the world with our GPS system."

"No. I'm done. Reset machine."

"Resetting all options. My calendar tells me it's December twenty-fourth, Edward – Christmas Eve. Would you like me to play some holiday music?"

"What the hell?"

Groaning, I powered off the treadmill without answering her. Then, admittedly breathing hard, I bent over and rested my hands on my damp thighs and remained that way, with my mind still in a wonderful blank. It was amazing what a top-of-the-line, in-home treadmill could accomplish.

"Who doesn't need an in-home gym?" I scoffed aloud, recalling a certain person's inability to understand why one would be necessary.

I looked up, and my eyes unavoidably panned to the floor-to-ceiling window which took up the entire north-facing wall of my bedroom. It opened up onto Central Park, though the park itself was almost hidden at the moment. It seemed at some point during my workout, the light snowfall outside had transformed into a damn blizzard. The world was covered by an ivory blanket, where the only visible objects were the dim glow of moonlight, high beams from cars slowly trudging by, and the barest hint of the park's bare branches. Covered in freshly-fallen snow, the branch's sparkled through the whiteout.

For one long moment, I stood staring at the sight.

"If one was a believer in Christmas Eve magic," I murmured to myself, "one might even call the warm glow beautiful – a veritable, poetic, winter fucking wonderland. But I'm not a believer," I shrugged. "So, I won't."

Instead, I turned away from the sight and headed to the bathroom, reaching behind me as I went and pulling off my sweat-dampened tee shirt. In the bathroom, I discarded my shorts into the hamper and jumped into the shower.

Twenty-minutes later, I emerged from the shower and switched on the recessed lights in my walk-in closet. Dropping the towel from my waist, I whistled a non-holiday tune to myself as I examined my clothing and pondered a comfortable choice for an evening at home. My entire body hummed, refreshed from the workout, the shower, and the sense of clear-headedness it had all provided.

"The weather outside might be frightful, but in here, it's a wonderful fucking life, indeed." I chuckled to myself, but the acoustics of the room made the sound echo loudly, much louder than I'd expected...uncomfortably loud. My chuckles ceased.

Nevertheless, I refused to allow strange acoustics to ruin my mood. Life was good. I had everything I needed within easy reach, and all else at my beck and call. Whatever…or whoever wasn't at my beck and call…well, I didn't really need.

I pulled out a clean tee shirt and a pair of sweats, and readied myself for a couple of hours of work, with a quick meal in between. Pondering my delivery options, I consulted my assistant.

"Alexa," I said as I walked into my pristine kitchen with a bounce in my steps, switching on the lights above the marble, kitchen island and watching the Echo's blue and green lights whir, "call the pizzeria and find out-"

The recessed lights flickered. I paused as I stared up at them.

"Which pizzeria would you like me _tooooo_ …."

The Echo's female voice trailed off as the blue and green lights dimmed and then disappeared. Above me, the recessed lighting flickered yet again.

Shaking my head, I pursed my lips and sighed. "This damn storm is gonna ruin my night."

As if to illustrate the point, the building's security intercom suddenly beeped. When I walked to the wall and answered it, the face of the old man, the temp concierge worker – George, was it? – appeared on the screen.

"Mr. Cullen, sir, it's George," he said, confirming his name for me. "Just checking to make sure you're all right up there. The building's power is on the blink."

When he grinned, he showcased those brilliantly white teeth, and the memory of how they'd practically sparkled in the lobby earlier made me frown.

"So, I see. You'd think with how much we pay for these apartments, the building's management could take care of that."

George chuckled. "Well, it _is_ a pre-war building, sir, but I wanted to assure you they're working on the issue."

"All right, thanks."

I was about to turn off the screen when George spoke again.

"The snow outside really _is_ beautiful, though; isn't it, sir? Doesn't usually snow like this on Christmas Eve 'round these parts, does it? It's almost like Christmas magic."

Again, as when I'd been down in the lobby, it was all I could to resist an eye roll.

"It's snow, George," I said dryly. "Frozen precipitation. I don't know if I'd call it magic."

"Don't you believe in magic, Mr. Cullen?"

"I believe in what I can actually see for myself and touch for myself."

George nodded slowly. "So, if you can't see it or touch it yourself, it isn't real?"

"No, George. It's not. Look, I don't mean to be rude, but I have some work to do tonight, and-"

"Work to do on Christmas Eve, sir?"

"Yes, George. Work to do on Christmas Eve. It's not a night of merriment for everyone."

I recalled where I'd heard almost those same exact words spoken last, by whom, and in reference to what, and I could no longer stop her image or her name from flitting through my mind.

 _Isabella._

I flinched.

"Are you all right, sir?"

"Yes, yes, I'm fine, George. Just recalling something that wasn't my fault."

"Usually, when things aren't our fault, they don't make us flinch, sir. Might I share a thought, Mr. Cullen?"

Withholding the impulse to point out that he already had – more than one, actually – I nodded.

"Go ahead."

"Well, here's my thought, sir: Sometimes, things are real even if they can neither be seen nor touched – or rather, I should say, they _can_ be real if we strive for them enough."

 _Isabella._

"George, I really don't want to be rude, but-"

"Looks like that storm is growing worse, sir. I suggest that, if you have any important calls to make, you make them soon. Don't know if the power will hold up."

 _Isabella._

I shut my eyes for a moment.

"All right. Thanks for the heads up, George."

"And one final thing, sir, before I let you return to what will likely be an extremely busy night for you. You have a package down here, and it looks like an important one to me. So, I'm going to have Little Tim bring it up to you, and then…well, then, we'll leave you in peace for the night."

My brow furrowed. I couldn't think of any urgent packages I was expecting. Perhaps it was one of those guilt gifts my parents sometimes sent; perhaps even something from Alice. That last thought kind of made me feel like shit. I hadn't gotten her anything.

"I appreciate it, George. Have a good night."

"A good night to you too, Mr. Cullen. And Merry Christmas!"

"Yes, yes. Thanks." I switched off the intercom and headed to the living room, where I sat heavily on the plush, white leather sectional before the lit fireplace. The flames danced and crackled as I stared at them. At some point, that wonderful feeling of clear-headedness abandoned me. Perhaps it was because now my thoughts were on Alice.

No, it wasn't the thought of Alice herself which made me uncomfortable. We weren't the closest of siblings, no – after all, our parents never exactly encouraged family intimacy or affection – but I was genuinely fond of my little sister. Unfortunately, with a six-year age difference between us, I was already in Princeton by the time she was old enough to consume enough space to be considered a person in her own right.

Alice lived in England now. Last year, at twenty-two, she'd managed to earn herself an internship with a prestigious law firm based in London. I remember how excited she'd been when she'd called to tell me. But her call had come in right before I was expected at court for an important case, so I'd only managed hasty congratulations before I'd had to end it. Since she'd left, we'd been in touch perhaps a handful of times.

Suddenly, I sort of wished I'd gotten to know my sister better throughout the years, and certainly better before she left. George's advice abruptly ran through my head:

' _If you have any important calls to make, I suggest you make them soon…'_

With a deep breath, I picked up my cell phone from the side table and scrolled through my contacts.

 **Merry Christmas Eve, Alice** , I typed.

I swiftly erased the message, for two reasons:

Number one, with a six-hour time difference, it was already Christmas Day in London. Number two…In the spirit of attempting to establish a somewhat closer sibling relationship, I decided to try out a different title for the little sister.

 **Merry Christmas, little sis.**

Considering the time difference, she responded with surprising speed, and even more surprising affection.

 **Merry Christmas, big bro! My God, we had the best night yet!**

I snorted. It looked like my little sister was partying it up indeed in merry old London.

 **Did you? What was so special about it?**

Again, she replied quickly.

 **Ha, ha. Very funny, Edward. Then again, every Christmas night for the past few years has been special, hasn't it? Thanks to Bella and the baby.**

I frowned down at my phone screen.

 **Who are Bella and the baby?**

With an inexplicably racing heart, I anxiously watched the three, little bubbles indicating she was typing out her reply

 **You're hilarious tonight, Edward. But you're right. I'm sorry. The bab(ies). Better? :) God, I'm so happy for you!**

My frown deepened, heart rate spiking all the more. But then…I grinned to myself, chuckled even, pleased for her if she happened to be in love. At least one of us-

I stopped that thought dead in its tracks.

 **Al, is Bella your girlfriend?**

 **Of course, she is! She's my girlfriend, my mentor, and my sister, all rolled into one. I'll never be able to thank you enough, Edward, or to thank enough what Bella always calls 'The night of your Grand Gesture,' lol. It changed everything, didn't it? I'll see you tomorrow, okay?**

 **You will? You're in town?**

 **How much eggnog have you had tonight, Edward? Go to bed! Your wife is probably waiting for you, and Lily's not going to let you guys sleep in come morning!**

"What the fuck?" I shouted out and jumped to my feet. "Shit," I muttered to myself as I raked a hand through my hair. "Damn it; she's on drugs. Fuck, I should've been a better brother."

I began my next text. "Alice, what are you on, and for how long has this been-"

Before I could finish or send off my next text, the doorbell buzzed.

"Shit," I spat as I ran to the door, all the while, making plans:

I had court in a couple of days, but maybe, if I could find a flight to London in the morning, I could retrieve Alice quickly, and we could be on the next flight back to New York before-

When I opened the door, a young, red-headed, and freckle-faced teenaged kid I assumed was Little Tim grinned at me while shoving something into my hands so swiftly I almost dropped my cell phone.

"Whoa, whoa, whoa, kid! Hold on!"

"Merry Christmas, Mr. Cullen! George asked me to deliver this to you! Says no one needs it more than you do right now."

The kid turned on his heel and strode right back into the elevator.

"Wait a minute? Don't you want a tip?" I asked.

The kid chuckled heartily. "No. Not at all." He was still laughing as the elevator doors closed.

I only managed a few seconds of vague bewilderment before the package in my hands caught my attention; not because it was a large package. It was shaped like a cube, about the size of a box of pop-tarts, and wrapped in shiny, red gift wrap, tied with a white bow, from which hung a white gift tag reading: To Edward Cullen. Use it with care. Good luck.

"What the hell is this now?"

Sticking my phone in the pocket of my sweats, I turned the box over from side to side, yet I found no return address.

"And who the hell from?"

Muttering a string of curses under my breath, I unwrapped the package with little care, letting the bow and ripped paper tumble to the wood floors.

"I don't have time for this," I gritted through my teeth as I pulled the box open and stuck my hand inside. "I've got to fly to fucking London and rescue my drug-addicted…

When my hand came out of the box, I held a small, silver bell up in front of my face.

"What in the…"

Instinctively, as one does when holding a bell, I moved it from side to side, not the least bit surprised when it made its expected chiming sound.

What did surprise me was when, at that exact moment, all the lights in the penthouse flickered…flickered…and went out.

* * *

 **A/N: Thoughts?**

 **Glad so many of you enjoyed by closing A/N for Chapter 1. ;)**

 **Facebook: Stories by PattyRose**

 **Twitter: PattyRosa817**

"See" you guys soon!


	3. Chapter 3

**A/N: Thanks so much for all your wonderful thoughts.**

 **Edward is a bit clueless, isn't he? LOL.**

 **Most characters belong to S. Meyer. The rest belong to me. All mistakes are mine as well.**

* * *

 **OCE – Chapter 3**

The lights came back on about three, furiously racing heartbeats after they'd gone out and without any of the accompanying flickers. As my eyes adjusted, a few things happened in quick succession:

I zeroed in on a thing clamped to my leg and yelped.

"Fuck!"

The thing screeched, and I jumped back, disentangling myself from its grip, which caused the bell in my hand to ring again. The lights went out once more, but not before I caught sight of the thing as it cackled wildly through a gaping hole in its mouth and glared up at me through huge, green eyes that were way too big for its body.

"Who's there?" I shouted into the darkness before the lights went on again, and I found myself alone, in the middle of my living room.

"What the…what the _fuck_ was that?"

The last few words erupted in an embarrassingly high-pitched and strangled voice, heart pounding so hard I feared my chest might explode. My hands shook, causing the bell I still gripped to chime once more. Again, the lights flickered…

"No, no, no!"

…flickered…

"No, no!"

And went out.

When they came back on, the Thing returned too, again clamped to my leg. This time, I withheld both my shout and my shaking hands long enough to see that the Thing…the Thing…well, the thing wasn't so much a Thing.

It was a girl; a young girl somewhere between the ages of three and eight as far as I could tell. Also, I realized she wasn't so much clamped to my leg as she was hugging it. Her cackles were more like giggles, and the gaping hole in her mouth was due to a couple of missing teeth. What's more, the little girl wasn't so much glaring as she was gazing at me through amused eyes – amused, green eyes that were definitely big for her body but in a cherub sort of way, and they were set within a vaguely familiar caramel face which was further framed by long, wavy, and dark hair.

Slowly and warily, I reached down with my free hand, index finger extended. When my fingertip made contact with the child's button nose, she giggled.

I frowned.

"Uh…who are you, and what exactly are you doing in my apartment?"

As I asked the question, I scanned my surroundings…my completely unfamiliar surroundings. I stood in the middle of a cluttered room, and as I swept my gaze, I was temporarily blinded by the flashing lights of an over-adorned Christmas tree off in a corner and by a holiday-lit window just beyond the tree. Through the window laid a view of a bridge, glowing in the moonlit snow.

Meanwhile, the little girl – who still clung to my leg, by the way – threw back her head full of long wavy hair and broke into fits of child-like laughter; laughter so hearty it was almost contagious. Almost. When her dark eyes met mine again, they caught the lights from the tree, and they sparkled like opals.

"Potty-mouth, Daddy! You're so funny!"

"What the fu-"

Fortunately, the bell in my once-again-shaking-hand rang before I could complete that startled exclamation. Unfortunately, however, just like before, I found myself in total darkness.

By this time, I was becoming somewhat familiar with the routine. Therefore, I didn't shout. Instead, I waited for the lights to come back on, and when they did, I wasn't surprised to find myself alone in the middle of _my_ living room – my immaculately ordered and childless living room.

"Thank freaking-" I raked a hand through my hair – stupidly using the hand which held the bell. The lights flickered, went out, and came back on. And there was the little girl, giggling and clinging to my leg.

"All right, what's going on?"

"You're being funny, Daddy!"

She laughed. Her head was bent back at an almost-painful looking angle so she could hold my gaze through those big, green eyes framed by long, curled eyelashes. The eyes flashed momentarily to the bell I held in my hand and then back to me. One hand released my leg and shot up, fingers extended.

"Daddy, is that one of my Christmas presents?"

"Oh, no, no, no. This is no toy, kid."

With the care I imagined SWAT teams reserved for explosives, I slowly pulled back my hand, pulling the bell attached to it far from the reaching, curious, little fingers of the child. Then, I put up my empty palm between us to halt those fingers' exploration while my eyes scanned the room, shaking my head in shock at the bedlam of toys, toys, toys absolutely everywhere.

When I spotted a high-placed shelf with books rather than toys resting on it, I carefully took a couple of steps toward the rack, slowly, so as not to rattle the bell yet again – at least, not until I figured out what the hell was going on. It wasn't easy; especially since the child hitched a ride on my leg the entire way.

As I set the bell down without jingling it, I shut my eyes and exhaled a breath of relief. My head spun, both from bewilderment and from the back and forth…travel? – whatever the fuck one could call it – between places. When I reopened my eyes, I tilted my head in momentary curiosity at the fact that the books on the shelf were of the legal research variety. However, I quickly recalled I had more significant issues at hand.

I looked down and found the little girl's gaze back on me. With another breath, I reached down and extracted her from my leg. Then, I crouched in front of her and carefully rested my hands on her tiny shoulders. They were soft, pliable…and so damn familiar even though I could've sworn I'd never laid eyes on this kid in my life.

"What's going on?" I murmured.

"It's Christmas Eve, Daddy!"

She grinned excitedly, displaying that gap in her mouth as well as a deep set of dimples.

My brow furrowed. "Excuse me, I don't mean to sound harsh, but…why do you keep calling me 'Daddy'?"

"Because that's what you are, Daddy!" She giggled. Then, she began turning from side to side in that restless, child-like manner I'd noticed kids sometimes had, and which Nanny Victoria never would've allowed me to get away with.

Nevertheless, as I said, I had bigger fish to fry, so I ignored her squirming. Instead, I scratched my jaw hard, trying to puzzle the shit out this while at the same time wondering why the little girl looked so damn familiar. Actually, she was an adorable child as far as children went; the fact exacerbated by her red, velvet dress with a matching red, velvet bow and black, patent-leather shoes.

"All right. Let's start with the basics, with something easy," I said.

Another giggle. "Like a game, Daddy? Like when we play _I Spy with my Little Eye_?"

Again, my brow furrowed. "Yeah, yeah; sure. Just like that. So, where exactly are we?"

"That's so easy, Daddy! We're home!" She rolled her big, green eyes.

Once again, I scanned my surroundings. Well, it was a home, all right – not an apartment nor a penthouse, and indeed not a house I'd ever been in, but it was definitely _someone's_ home. Truthfully, the place itself wasn't so bad as much as it was merely cluttered with a mess of toys, miniature clothing, gift wrap galore – and that eyesore of a Christmas tree.

"Home, huh?" I mumbled. "So, where exactly is home? Do you know your address?"

"'That one's easy too, Daddy. We live at 1224 Partridge Street, Brooklyn, New York-"

"Brooklyn!" I interrupted.

The little girl giggled. "Yes, Daddy."

"Wait a minute, wait a minute." I gestured a time-out with my hands. "Now I know I'm dreaming because I wouldn't be caught dead living in Brooklyn."

The little girl chuckled. "You love Brooklyn, Daddy! You always say we get to see all the pretty lights over there…" With her eyes on me, she pointed out the window at the lit Manhattan skyscrapers just beyond the bridge, "… _and_ have a nice big house to run and play in!"

I pursed my lips dubiously and pointed at myself. " _I_ say that?"

"Yes, Daddy," she giggled.

Again, I looked around the place. "I mean…it's not a _bad_ place, per se; not a bad address either as far as Brooklyn addresses go…but _Brooklyn_." I shuddered. "Everyone knows Brooklyn's just a second-rate borough for those who can't afford Manhattan."

Another giggle.

"Brooklyn," I scoffed. "Never mind a dream; this has to be a nightmare."

"A nightmare, Daddy?"

The little girl's little brow furrowed, and for the first time since I'd met her, the smile, grin, and/or giggles abandoned her. Instead, her bottom lip began to quiver, and her tiny voice broke.

"Daddy, you had a nightmare? I scared of nightmares."

Oh, fuck.

She threw back her head and opened her mouth.

"No, no, no!" I said desperately. "Not a nightmare; a dream – a wonderful yet bizarre and inexplicable dream where I'd actually move out of my Central Park West Penthouse to live in a crowded house in Brooklyn, but not a nightmare, honey. Hey, let's continue our game, okay?" I grinned widely and clapped my hands together playfully.

For a handful of seconds, the wary frown remained on the little girl's smooth, little forehead – a smooth forehead I could've sworn I'd seen before.

"Okay, Daddy!"

"So, here's a good one. Let's see if you can get this one. Ready?" I asked.

"Yes, Daddy." She giggled again, and for some reason…the sound sent a strange sense of relief coursing through me.

"Okay, good. So, where exactly is your _mom_?"

The kid actually smirked – yet another reaction I found vaguely familiar. Then, she shot me a semi-arrogant _'I got this'_ smile.

"Better yet, kiddo, in this… _wonderful_ dream I'm having," I rolled my eyes, " _who_ exactly did I beget you with?"

That little brow furrowed again. "You mean who's Mommy?"

I nodded.

"That's another easy one, Daddy!"

I quirked an eyebrow. "Another easy one, huh, Little Miss Smarty-Pants? Go ahead, then."

I crossed my arms against my chest, feigning nonchalance in front of this tiny, little being when in reality, my heart beat like a war drum.

"Mommy is-"

"We're home!"

My eyes grew wide, and I jumped to my feet at the sound of that voice. I'd recognized it easily enough since I'd more or less grown up with it. As my gaze followed the direction from which the sound came, I vaguely noted how things were beginning to make sense in this senseless dream. For example, my text convo with Alice – _that_ had apparently been part of this dream too. What's more, it explained why Alice had said she'd see me tomorrow.

Because in this dream, it was _Alice_ who lived in Brooklyn. The kid probably belonged to her – though why the little girl kept calling me 'Daddy' was still a mystery. Perhaps, in this dream, Al was a single mom, who encouraged the kid to call me 'Dad' so she could have a father-figure.

Strange how, for the briefest moment, a deep pang of disappointment hit me.

"Where are you guys?" Alice asked right as she rounded the corner while carrying about fifty shopping bags. "There you both are!" she said as she caught sight of us before her eyes flashed down to the little girl beside me. "Guess what I have?" she asked in one of those sing-song tones some adults used with children.

The little girl ran toward Alice, yet before the child reached her, someone else rounded the corner behind my sister.

This…other person had long, dark, and wavy hair, just like the little girl's hair; though, this woman's silky mane was ringed in a halo of ivory snow. She had the child's caramel skin tone as well, the same shape mouth, the same long eyelashes. But where the woman's eyes were a vibrant shade of chocolate, the little girl…the little girl had my green eyes.

The woman took a step forward – stood in front of Alice – so that it was into _her_ arms which the little girl jumped. The woman wrapped the little girl up in a tight embrace and laughed. It was a beautiful, musical laugh, one which though I'd rarely if ever, heard from her, suited her perfectly.

The woman looked up, and when her eyes met mine, she grinned the most gloriously happy grin, obviously thrilled to see me.

"Hey, babe. I'm home."

My heart stopped for a second...or for an entire lifetime.

"Isabella?"

* * *

 **A/N: Thoughts?**

 **Not much of a surprise there, huh? See? I can behave. ;)**

 ***Btw, I'm a Brooklyn girl, born, bred, and proud. ;)**

 **Facebook: Stories by PattyRose**

 **Twitter: PattyRosa817**

" **See" you guys soon!**


	4. Chapter 4

**A/N: Thank you all so much for your wonderful thoughts!**

 **Most characters belong to S. Meyer. Some belong to Capra, Dickens, and well…we'll see who else, lol. But ALL mistakes are mine. ;)**

 **My youngest baby is off from school today, so we're making a day of it – skating under the tree at Rockefeller, lunch with my sis, and then a special 'Mean Girls' and 'Wicked' event at Columbus Circle!**

 **All that is to say I'll be busy, so here's an early-morning update. ;)**

* * *

 **OCE – Chapter 4**

When I said her name, Isabella laughed again, that musical laugh I'd never heard from her because whenever I'd been around her before, Isabella always seemed angry. It was an anger often directed my way, and honestly, I didn't mind in the least. After all, her fury had a way of magnifying the fire in her dark eyes, the flush in her caramel cheeks, and the fullness of her natural pout. If anything, I thought anger suited Counselor Isabella Swan rather well indeed.

Now, however, there wasn't a trace of anger. Instead, Isabella strutted toward me wearing that white coat and white hat I'd always thought made her look like a Christmas fairy had I been a believer in such things. In fact, as she walked with an almost teasing languidness – with the little girl still in her arms – I had the vaguest notion of how utterly and absolutely wrong I'd been about one thing, at least:

Yes, she was gorgeous when angry. But when Isabella Swan was happy…there were no words to describe her.

She reached me while all these convoluted thoughts ran through my head, and lifting herself on her toes, Isabella proceeded to brush her mouth against mine as if it was both the most natural and the most necessary task in her world. Soft then hard then urgent…the tip of her tongue just touching mine then soft again as the rest of the world melted away, and all the while, a series of satisfied grunts emanated from her throat. She sucked on my bottom lip one last time and pulled away with a blissful grin gracing her beautiful face.

"Holy hell, Isabella…"

"Potty-mouth Daddy," someone giggled, and I should've known who, but I was still too dazed to focus. Isabella's lips were softer, suppler, and more delicious than I ever imagined in my wildest fantasies. And I'd had some wild fantasies about this woman.

Meanwhile, from the other side of the room, someone else – Santa Fucking Claus for all I cared – laughed much more heartily.

"Don't you two ever stop or save anything for when Lily's in bed?"

"Oh, we save plenty for then," Isabella grinned, "but Edward and I decided long ago that it was good for Lily to see her parents express affection." Her dark eyes sparkled. "Didn't we, babe?"

Perhaps it was the over-the-top Christmas lighting all around the room blinding me, making me see things which weren't truly there. That _had_ to be the explanation because there was no way this woman could truly gaze at me with so much tenderness as opposed to aversion.

I blinked successively, yet when I stopped, she was _still_ there and still looking at me like she'd just won the lottery.

"Isabella, you're still here."

She snorted. "Where else would I be, Edward, and on Christmas Eve, no less?" Her perfectly smooth forehead furrowed, yet the grin remained in place. "And why do you keep calling me 'Isabella?'"

"It's your name," I said, but then a hint of doubt crept into my head. "Isn't it?"

"Silly Daddy! Only work people call Mommy 'Isabella.'"

"And only the ones I'm not fond of, if you'll recall," Isabella added with a chuckle. "Edward, I don't think you've called me 'Isabella' since…" her eyes panned away from me, but when they returned, her grin widened all the more, and her voice took on a dreamy quality, "well, since the Night of Your Grand Gesture."

"The night of my…?"

"Man, Edward. You're reminding her of the Night of Your Grand Gesture? Someone's really angling for some sugar plum tonight, if you know what I mean," Alice snickered.

"Alice," Bella warned, still grinning though.

"I want sugar plums too!" the little girl – Lily – said.

"You see what you did, Alice?"

The two women chuckled at the little girl's innocent comment, yet I remained silent. Isabella stopped laughing, but her eyes remained amused and on me even as she spoke softly to Lily.

"Lily, go to Aunt Alice. She's got a yummy candy cane for you, but don't get your pretty dress dirty."

"Okay, Mommy!" As soon as she set Lily down, the little girl took off at a run, her patent shoes pitter-patting noisily over the wood floors.

"Come here, Lil," Alice said. "I've got a feeling that convo there between your mom and dad is about to take on a decidedly R rating."

"What's an R rating, Aunt Alice?"

"Alice," Bella warned again. But then she leaned into my ear and spoke in a hushed whisper. And I had no idea what Alice responded to Lily's question.

"What's wrong, baby? You know that with or without the reminder of that perfect evening, you were already getting my sugar plum tonight, the way you do every night."

 _Ho. Lee. Fuck_. I swallowed thickly and audibly, and Isabella chuckled huskily in my ear, an action that vibrated all the way down to my groin.

"Why do you pretend you're surprised, Edward? You know how much I love Christmas sex."

"Isabella," – the whispered word came out shaky – "before you continue, I should probably tell you that-"

"Maybe tonight…" her whisper morphed into little more than heavy breaths bathing my ear, and her tongue darted out, swirling around my lobe, "maybe tonight I'll let my tongue play the part of the proverbial bow and add an extra special swirl to your extra special holiday bj."

In my defense, there were only three likely scenarios regarding what was going on here:

The first scenario: I was dreaming. At some point during the evening – most likely while I sat on my leather sectional gazing at the flames dancing in the fireplace – I'd fallen asleep. Now, I was in the middle of the most vivid dream of my life. I saw all those shades which made up Isabella's unique eye-color. I smelled the sweet, intoxicating scent of her skin. I felt the soft, suppleness of her lips. So, if this was just a dream, what was the harm in playing along?

The second scenario: I'd gone mad, and while playing along with my insane visions might just exacerbate the situation, if I was already insane, what was the further harm?

Which brought me to the third, and in my opinion, least likely scenario: The mysterious silver bell I'd received in a package sent up by George the temp doorman and delivered by Little Tim the unknown delivery boy was, in reality, a magical bell. It was a magical bell which had the power to transport its ringer to a different dimension; in my case, one where Isabella and I were _married_ , living in _Brooklyn_ , and parents to a precocious – yet admittedly adorable – little girl. Perhaps most wonderfully in this third scenario, however, was the fact that in this alternate dimension, Isabella _wanted_ to give me a blow-job.

 _Why_ this magical silver bell would transport me to this dimension, I had no clue. That was one of the many reasons why I considered this scenario the least likely. Therefore, once again, what would be the harm in playing along? Perhaps if I played along, I'd wake up in a post-dream, post-blow-job bliss, and without the need to ring that fucking, dizzying bell again.

Finally, blow job or no blow job, the prospect of feeling this woman's lips on mine again was worth a thousand nightmares where I lived in Brooklyn – or even insanity itself. Yes, they were _that_ amazing.

I grinned crookedly and inched my mouth closer to my _wife's_ delicious mouth. "Wanna go upstairs right now so you can gimme a taste of that extra special swirl of your tongue around my hard-"

"Oh my God, this living room's a mess!"

Isabella pulled away. As her eyes swept the room, she pursed her full lips and rested her hands on her hips.

Irritated by the sudden shift in topic, I nodded. "Yeah. Yeah, it is. It's not the best-organized living room, to begin with, and with all this sh…Isabella, don't you think maybe the little girl- Lily, I mean," I corrected myself, "has way too many toys and clothes for someone her size? Seems like you might spoil her a bit."

Though still grinning, Isabella shot me a frown. "Edward, what are you talking about? You know very well these aren't for her. And you were supposed to wrap them while I was out. What happened with that?"

I pointed at myself. " _I_ was supposed to wrap them?"

"Yeah. You and Lily. You've been teaching her to wrap Christmas gifts for the past couple of weeks in preparation for tonight."

" _I've_ been teaching her to wrap gifts? Not likely," I snorted.

"Yes, Edward, you." She chuckled again, but there was a tinge of impatience in her voice now. "What's going on with you tonight, babe? And why do you keep calling me 'Isabella' and repeating everything I say?" Again lifting herself on her tip-toes, she laid a palm on my forehead. "Are you feeling okay?" she murmured, sounding genuinely concerned.

I jerked back my head, wondering if perhaps I should just ring that bell and end this game.

"Yeah. Yeah, I'm just..friggin' fine." I raked a hand through my hair and sighed.

Isabella frowned.

"Daddy's silly _and_ potty-mouthed tonight," Lily said from across the room.

"Yes," Isabella said. "Yes, he is. And he's not dressed yet." Her eyes took me in from top to bottom, frowning again. When she spoke, however, her tone was soft and placating. "Babe, maybe you need a few minutes to yourself. Why don't you go take a bath and change? I'm sure Alice can watch Lily while I take care of things in the kitchen."

"You want me to change out of my sweats to stay in for the evening?"

"Edward, it's Christmas Eve."

"Yes, you've said that about twenty times already."

Her eyes flashed.

"We're having company," Isabella said in a tone which was no longer quite so soft, and which implied I should've known this. " _And_ we always get dressed up on Christmas Eve so that the three of us can take our holiday pictures by the tree. You love getting dressed up for Christmas Eve."

"Really?" I chuckled dubiously. " _I_ love that?"

This time, Isabella didn't reply. Instead, her coffee-toned eyes darkened further into opals in a way I was pretty familiar with from our days in court.

"Okay," I said, palms up in surrender. "Okay. I guess I'll go upstairs," I hitched my thumb upward behind me, "and I'll change into something more festive."

Isabella smiled tightly. "Good, but the staircase upstairs to the bedrooms is that way." She pointed upward in front of me.

"I knew that, of course." I turned away from her. With my chances at that second kiss anytime soon – never mind that blow-job – fading fast, my gaze landed on the shelf, where the silver bell waited quietly and patiently. I took a step forward.

"Hurry up, Daddy, so we can play the guessing game some more!"

Lily's giggles distracted me. I glanced away from the bell and down to her and stopped in my tracks. She gave me an adoring, crookedly-familiar, and toothless grin.

Maybe…maybe a few more minutes of this dream wouldn't kill me.

"Aunt Alice is going to help me wrap the presents while you're upstairs!"

"Go ahead, Edward," Alice said. "I've got her. We'll wrap the presents and tidy things up a bit."

"Okay." I raked a hand through my hair. "Okay. And good, because this place is seriously in need of some cleaning up."

When I looked back at Bella, she was no longer smiling.

"I'll be down in a few, Isabella."

She nodded slowly and wordlessly.

OOOOO

Strange thing: the second level of this place didn't quite match the first level.

Up here, there had been recent renovations. Whereas the first level of the house was set up in one of those awkward, boxy, pre-2000s styles, I was pleasantly surprised when I climbed the old, wooden staircase and found a loft-style second-level. Plenty of large windows looked out on the Manhattan skyline and obviously let in an abundance of light during the day. In combination with the light gray walls and a darker shade of stained, wooden floors, it all made the area appear deceivingly more spacious. As I made my way down the wide hallway, I took a guess that the first door opened up onto the master bedroom. I was correct.

Again, the bedroom was a surprising relief. While not particularly large nor decorated in the sleek, modern style I'd hired an interior decorator to procure for me in my penthouse, the light-toned, distressed wood look going on in here was more than acceptable. There was a queen-sized bed with a white-wood headboard, a matching dresser, two matching side-tables, and an attractive, plush chaise that contrasted nicely with everything else. As I opened one of two doors in the room, I was further relieved to find a walk-in closet; nowhere near as large as the one in my penthouse, of course – in fact, I couldn't take more than two steps inside it, but considering the size of the bedroom, I was lucky to have that much. At least, Isabella appeared to keep her side of the closet as neat as I kept mine.

Grinning, I examined her husband's… _my_ side of the closet, wondering what new pieces of clothing Brooklyn Edward had purchased lately. Slowly, the satisfied smirk I'd been sporting fell from my face.

"What the fuck? Where's the Versace, the Dior?" I rummaged through the unfamiliar clothes neatly on hangers and shelves, lifting the tag on a white, button-down shirt. "Oh fuck, no. No, no, no. Banana Republic? Really, Brooklyn Edward? That's the best you could do? Banana Fucking Republic?" I dropped my hands from the clothing and hung my head. "Jesus, what the hell happened here?" Fisting my hair, I swiftly walked out of that closet.

I stood at the threshold of the bedroom, drawing in a few cleansing breaths and allowing my eyes to wander. That was when I noticed the pictures on the walls.

There were two main pictures on either side of the door leading out of the bedroom, both professionally framed within sixteen by twenty black frames with silky white matting. The one to the right of the door was a wedding picture of Isabella and…well, me. I rubbed my jaw hard, bewildered because yes; there was no denying it was me, yet I couldn't fathom _how_ I could possibly look so fucking over-the-moon, yet have no recollection of the event.

Yes, yes; all this was likely a dream, but, at the same time, it was fucking mind-blowing that a dream could show me an image of _me_ looking so unbelievably overjoyed.

And Isabella…again, there were no words to describe her perfection in a simple white dress without all the over-the-top nonsense I'd seen some brides wear. Her makeup, if she wore any, was minimal. Her hair hung loosely around her shoulders, the way I loved to see it. And as we gazed at one another rather than at the photographer, we gave one another matching looks to the one she'd worn when she first walked into the living-room a short while earlier, as if we'd just won the lottery.

Nevertheless, it was the picture hanging to the left of the door which made my heart squeeze inside my chest.

It was the little girl…Lily…my daughter – Isabella's and my daughter – as a newborn. Granted, I didn't know much about kids, but Lily couldn't have been more than a month old in the picture. Yet, her eyes were wide open and already green like mine. She wore a white knit dress with white knit booties and a white knit headband, and all of it suited her caramel skin and dark fuzz of hair perfectly.

"She's like a little angel," I murmured, grinning to myself.

I noticed more pictures - pictures of birthdays and other holidays and celebrations. Some were on the dresser, like one of Lily as an actual newborn. In this one, Isabella sat on a hospital bed while I sat next to her, and Lily rested between us in our entwined arms. Here, instead of gazing at one another, Isabella and I both gazed down adoringly at our newborn daughter.

I fisted my hair, really fucking hard, pulling it from its roots to see if that woke me the fuck up here, without having to resort to the dizzying bell.

Nothing.

"God, what the hell is going on here?"

OOOOO

I took my time in the bath, both because I had no fucking clue what to do with myself once I emerged and because it was a surprisingly-comfortable stand-up shower stall with glass doors and classy, white tiles.

Once the water ran cold, I emerged and begrudgingly dressed in a pair of khaki Banana Fucking Republic slacks and a red polo from the same shitty mall store. As I stood in front of the mirror and pushed back my damp hair, my eyes strayed to that picture again, the one with the three of us at Lily's birth.

"Lily," I breathed, a smile tugging my lips, "you've been a beauty like your mom since Day One."

A sweet giggle suddenly erupted from behind me. "I'm here, Daddy!"

When I turned around, Lily was by the door. "You look so beautiful too in your red shirt, Daddy – red just like me!" She pointed at her red velvet dress.

My smile widened, and when I crouched down on one leg, the action felt instinctive.

"Thank you. Come here, Lily," I said, patting my leg.

With another giggle, Lily ran to me and took a seat on my proffered knee.

"I thought you were supposed to be wrapping presents with my sis…with your Aunt Alice."

"We already finished," she smiled. "You took so long, Daddy!"

"I did? I'm sorry," I murmured. "I guess I was…lost in thought."

"What were you lost thinking, Daddy?" she asked, her eyes narrowing. I found it amazing how they could be the exact shade of green I saw daily in the mirror.

"I was thinking lots of things," I replied vaguely, raking a hand through my hair. "Lots of…strange things."

"Aunt Alice told Mommy you're acting like an asshoe tonight."

"Did she?" I smirked. "I don't think Aunt Alice should be using that language around you."

"That's what Mommy said," Lily agreed. "Then Mommy said Aunt Alice was right – you are acting like an asshoe. But she said maybe you just didn't sleep too well last night. What's an asshoe, Daddy?"

"Never mind that. Nothing you need to know," I scowled.

"Is it true, Daddy? Didn't you sleep well?"

I rolled my eyes. "I slept fine last night. This night, however…"

"You had a nightmare, Daddy?" Her bottom lip quivered the way it had earlier.

"No, no, honey. No nightmares. I promise." I crossed my heart.

Lily giggled.

"Hey, Lil," I said, "you want to continue playing the guessing game we were playing downstairs?"

Lily clapped her tiny hands and jumped on my knee. "Ooh yes! Yes, Daddy. Let's play!"

"Okay, good. So, let's start with an easy one again. Ready?" I asked.

She nodded excitedly.

"How old are you, Lily?"

She rolled her eyes in much the same manner I tended to do. "That's so easy, Daddy. I four years old!" she said, holding up four fingers.

"Four years old! Man, you're tall and smart for your age."

"That's what everyone says! And you always smile when they say it. You say, "She's tall like me and smart like her mommy," she said, dropping her voice to imitate mine.

I laughed. "Do I? Yeah, I guess I would say something like that, wouldn't I?" I grinned smugly. "Okay, ready for the next one?"

"Yes!" She threw a tiny fist up in the air.

"So, if only people Mommy doesn't like or know too well call her Isabella, the rest of us call her…?"

"Bella!" She threw both fists up in the air in triumph. "Mommy's name is Bella!"

"Bella," I breathed, nodding slowly. "Bella Swan."

"Not Bella Swan, silly Daddy! Bella Swan Cullen - Cullen like you and me!" She pointed her minuscule finger from me to herself.

My heart jumped, even though, of course, _Cullen_ would be Bella's surname now, _both_ their surnames.

"Okay," I swallowed through the inexplicable lump in my throat. "Okay, well are you ready to move on to Level Two, Lil? Think carefully before you answer because the questions get much harder in Level Two."

"I'm ready, Daddy!" She nodded once in determination, her little brow furrowed tightly in focus.

"So, if all those toys and clothes downstairs weren't yours, whose are they?"

"They're for the under…the underpriv…underpriv…"

"Underprivileged?"

"Yes! Underpriveged children. You and Mommy going to take me to the underpriveged children tomorrow to give out all those presents! I so excited, Daddy!" She clapped those tiny hands again.

"Are we?" I frowned. "From the looks of things, we're not exactly the overprivileged."

"What, Daddy?"

"Never mind." I shook my head. "Okay, ready for a tougher one? I'm talking Level Three kind of stuff here."

"Bring it, Daddy!"

I frowned. "Where'd you learn to say that?"

"From you, Daddy," she said innocently, those big, green eyes open wide.

"From me," I breathed. "Yeah, I say that a lot, don't I?"

"U-huh," Lily nodded.

I pinched my jaw between my fingers. "All right. Lily, do you…by any chance, have any idea what the Night of the Grand Gesture was?"

Lily's smooth, tiny forehead wrinkled. She bit her lip. After half a minute, she shook her head slowly.

"I don't know that one, Daddy. Does that mean I lose the game?" Her little lips, as full as her mother's, pouted in disappointment.

"No, Lily," I said firmly. "Not at all. You are doing _so_ good at this game. I'm talking genius level here."

"Really, Daddy?"

"Yes, really, Lil," I said.

"Oh, Daddy, I love this game!"

Abruptly, without warning, with no sort of sign or request or any hint that she was about to take such an action, Lily…Cullen threw her small, soft, and warm little arms around my neck. Then, she kissed me hard on the cheek.

"And I love you, Daddy!"

Ho…lee. Fuck.

The strangest thing yet that night happened:

A thousand images flooded my head.

Images of Isabella – Bella – pushing out this tiny being from between her legs.

My whoops of joy.

Holding the tiny being in my arms.

Kissing Bella's sweaty forehead.

Tears in my eyes.

The tiny being growing, walking.

A first birthday and a large candle.

Second, third, and fourth birthdays and Christmases in between.

So, when I kissed Lily's sweet, little caramel cheek and wrapped my much bigger arms carefully around her tiny frame, it felt as if I'd done that same exact thing a thousand times before. And when I replied shakily,

"I love you too, Lily."

I wasn't even lying.

* * *

 **A/N: Thoughts?**

 **So, I guess the 3-chapter estimate is out the window. ;)**

 **Twitter: PattyRosa817**

 **Facebook: Stories by PattyRose**

" **See" you soon.**


	5. Chapter 5

**A/N: Thanks so much for all your wonderful thoughts.**

 **Most characters belong to S. Meyer. Some belong to Capra, Dickens, and we'll see who else we can throw into the mix, lol. ;) All mistakes, however, remain mine. :)**

* * *

 **OCE – Chapter 5**

Since the moment I wandered down this anomalous rabbit hole, I was almost one-hundred percent positive this was a dream – a bizarrely vivid dream, yet a dream nonetheless.

In this dream, for example, I could _see_ every color under the spectrum; not just the pastels in which those who study dreams claim most dreamers dream. Lily's velvet Christmas dress was a red so vibrant it was almost burgundy. Her eyes were the same shade of green as mine – a color referred to by many admirers throughout the years as emerald – while Isabella's eyes were the exact shade of chocolate which, for weeks, had kept me spellbound in a court of law.

What's more, I could _smell_ the fruity, sweet scent emanating off Lily's delicate skin – a mixture of peaches and cream, while in contrast, Isabella's scent was much more exotic, like roses and wine.

I _tasted_ the urgency of Isabella's kiss, the _feel_ of her lips as they yielded then demanded, very unlike the sweet, childlike reverence in Lily's wet peck.

I _heard_ the joy in Lily's continuous giggles at my faux pas and the frustration in Isabella's sudden confusion at those same.

All these sensations struck me with bewildering detail; intense for a dream, yes, but easily chalked up to psychological manifestations, to products of the subconscious mind and how, for whatever Freudian reasons, it tended to twist and churn thoughts into unrecognizable and oftentimes senseless images while in REM.

But this…this overwhelming… _love_ for the little girl…for _my_ daughter… _how_ was it possible to feel so overpowered by an emotion in a dream? It struck me like a figurative lightning bolt; it surged through me like a tidal wave. It would've brought me to my knees had I not already been down on them.

And suddenly…suddenly, I was no longer quite so sure that this was just a dream.

Drawing back, Lily unwound her tiny arms from my neck, but her minuscule finger reached up and brushed the space just below my eye. She smiled innocently, unaware of this latest turmoil now rioting in my mind, all while she gazed at me through those emerald eyes.

"Your eyes are shiny, Daddy, like the windows when they're wet with snow." Her tiny finger pointed at one of the bedroom windows as a case in point.

"Are they?" I offered her a shaky smile, unable to do or say more because therein lay the rub:

What the fuck _was_ I supposed to do now? This emotion… _Love_ …I'd always known it was a complication. It was a life lesson instilled in me from almost my very first moments by a set of parents more interested in the novelty of parenting than in the actual _parenting_.

Edward Sr. and Elizabeth Cullen traveled the world via private jet, from one end of the globe to the other, and left the child-rearing portion of parenting to the hired help. Oh, they were around for the odd occasion – a birthday here, a piano recital there – but the world-at-large awaited, brimming with people, sights, and sounds. Love…attachment only served to limit that world. By the time Alice came along because a complete "family" _had_ to consist of both a boy and a girl, I'd learned there were already way too many complications in the world. Why add _Love_ to the mix?

Nonetheless, here I was.

Even now, my love for Lily reshaped my thoughts, rearranged priorities, yet provided no clue on how to explain to her the swarm of thoughts and emotions fighting for dominance inside me.

How could I tell her that her Daddy, the man with whom she'd spent the first four years of her life, either didn't exist, and if he did, he wasn't me? How could I further admit to her that I had no idea if he'd ever return to her or if I'd be left in his place – a woefully lacking carbon copy with sudden memories but no context?

And how could I tell her that as much as I strangely and inexplicably loved her, I still had no idea what I was doing here?

Of course, I couldn't actually tell her any of it. Not only because I had no idea if any of this was even really happening but because Lily was four-years-old, for God's sake. A highly intelligent, bright, beautiful, and tall four-year-old, but nevertheless, four.

So, instead, I drew in a breath and managed another weak smile.

"Ready to go back downstairs and join Mommy?"

She clapped her hands happily – easily distracted as I was pretty sure four-year-olds tended to be.

"Mommy's making Pecan Pie!"

We made our way down the creaky, wooden staircase, with Lily's hand encased in mine as she jumped and shrieked from one step to another. Despite the confusion roiling within me, her antics, like so many I'd shared with this child in the last twenty minutes or so, felt familiar - natural. They gave me a chuckle, and I found myself wondering if Brooklyn Edward constantly found himself entertained by his daughter's… _my_ daughter's antics?

When we reached the landing, Lily whooped and clapped her hands.

"We did it, Daddy! We did it!" she giggled as if we'd succeeded at a huge milestone.

I clapped along with her. "Yes, we did."

The shit of it was that a peculiar sense of pride puffed up my Banana-Republic-Polo-wearing chest.

Now, pride was something to which I was accustomed. For example, whenever one of my cars drew envious looks or whenever one of my designer suits earned me lustful glances, and mostly, whenever I kicked ass in court, my sense of pride, of self-worth, felt smugly satisfied.

 _This_ …was different. This pride wasn't in me. It was pride in the simple fact that Lily managed to jump down each and every step of the staircase, and _I_ felt as if _I'd_ won the case of a lifetime because of it! It was if by fathering Lily, _I'd_ accomplished every one of _her_ accomplishments.

So fucking strange.

The memories…images…visions – whatever one could call them – I'd had of Lily's childhood were baffling, incomprehensible, yet how much stranger were they than the entire episode through which I was living?

"Come on, Daddy," Lily said, tugging on my hand. "Let's go help Mommy."

"You go ahead. I'll meet you there in a minute."

"Okay, Daddy," she agreed easily, skipping away toward the kitchen.

In truth, I wasn't prepared for Lily's mom – not to see her or to think too deeply about her; not yet.

First, I needed to calm the uproar in my mind, to make an attempt to order my thoughts, an attempt to figure out what exactly was going on. With a deep breath, my eyes scanned my surroundings.

Alice had cleaned up, and with all the toys and clothing that had been strewn around now wrapped into about a hundred gifts under the Christmas tree, it was easier to make out the actual living area itself. Much like the furniture upstairs, the furniture down here, while not necessarily what _I_ would've picked out for my modern-design penthouse, were tasteful in a more live-comfortably-and-warm sort of décor.

Hand-knit throws covered the upholstered couches, while a large, silver vase with white flowers was the centerpiece atop a stained-wood, center table. The fireplace had a stone hearth rather than a marble one, and the mantle was covered in family pictures rather than designer showpieces. Above the mantle was a flat-screen, which was turned to some black-and-white Christmas movie. The walls were bland and unimaginative – though thankfully clean – white.

Nevertheless, the only true unappealing factor down here, and what ruined everything else its occupants had apparently tried to accomplish with its décor, was the floor plan. Instead of a large, open space, various narrow hallways divided the different rooms on this level, closing off each one from the other. From the hallway through which Lily had disappeared, a Christmas song wafted in the air.

And then, my gaze zeroed in on the shelf with the thick, hardback books…and the silver bell.

As I slowly made my way toward the shelf, my heart beat against my breastbone. For one, long moment after reaching the shelf, I simply stood there, staring at the silver bell. Visually, I examined it for clues, for some indication, for a trace of its purpose whether dream or insanity…or magically induced.

It was a silver bell, smooth and shiny, and nothing else.

But I _needed_ answers. I'd always been the type of person who needed answers, facts, reasons.

With shaking hands, I reached for the silver bell, my quivery fingers pausing in the air about a millimeter from the shiny instrument.

"Come on, Edward," I chided myself, "get yourself under control. You _can't_ move the clapper – at least…not yet."

Finally, with slow and steady movements, without a breath, and with my head dipped low, I picked up the bell an inch, then two inches, three, four inches off the shelf. My brain pounded from lack of oxygen as I peeked inside expecting it to glow, shimmer, explode – _something_.

Nothing.

I fought back the wave of disappointment, carefully and slowly lowering the bell…lower, lower, not daring to breathe again until it finally rested evenly on the shelf. Squeezing my eyes shut, I pulled in a lungful of air. No, I hadn't rattled the bell, but I still had no fucking clue what was going on.

When I reopened my eyes, they fell on the books on the shelf. I snorted at the recognition of more than one of them as mine – or rather, as Brooklyn Edward's Legal Reference materials. My fingers instinctively traced their leather spines and read the titles with a sense of familiarity that brought little comfort. My brow furrowed as I read aloud the titles to unfamiliar ones:

"Nonprofit Law: A Practical Guide to Legal Issues for Nonprofit Organizations."

And,

"Starting and Managing a Nonprofit Organization: A Legal Guide. Of course," I smirked, shaking my head. "Isabella's books."

Out of sheer curiosity, I picked up one of the books and flipped it open, where my gaze naturally fell to the inscription on the back of the cover.

"To a beauty with a huge heart," I read. "Go save the world. Love you. Emmett. Emmett?" I repeated to myself. "Emmett…" My top lip curled, and my blood boiled when I remembered where I'd heard that name.

' _Emmett, I don't know what time I'll get there. I'm not exactly going to drop that bombshell and then run off to my holiday merriment, am I?'_

This Emmett guy was the one Isabella was on her cell phone with a few hours ago, outside of Judge Weber's chambers, the one who'd apparently been waiting for her. It seemed that in this version of her life…of _our_ life… _he_ was still important in hers.

"Holiday fucking merriment, indeed," I muttered. Then, shutting the book, I shoved it unthinkingly back onto the shelf.

The silver bell rattled…

" _Fuuck_. No, no, no."

Rattled…

"Don't ring, don't ring," I pleaded.

And stilled. And I remained exactly where I was, unable to move for a few moments, then throwing back my head and exhaling as my shoulders slumped. I gripped my hair.

"If I'm not nuts, I'm sure as hell on my way there."

"On your way to where, Edward? It's Christmas Eve! You can't go anywhere."

I spun around and found Alice crossing the room.

"Bella's already frustrated with you tonight as it is. You're acting strange, and you were supposed to help her wrap the gifts and shell nuts for the pies." She breezed by me, picking up her cell phone from one of the side tables.

When I didn't reply, Alice looked up from her phone, her eyes trailing to where I still held my hair fisted in my hand.

Alice frowned. "What's wrong, Edward? Do you have a headache? Is that why you're acting like such a prick tonight?" She looked back down at her phone. "Damn, I missed Jasper's call."

My jaw tightened, and I dropped my hand from my hair.

"Do me a favor and don't use that sort of language in front of Lily. She came upstairs repeating what you said before."

"Ouch!" Alice chuckled, but then she shot me a rueful smile. "I'm sorry. You're right; you're right. I know how you hate that, and I swear I'm trying." She grinned playfully and strode over, giving me first a playful punch in the arm, then a quick kiss, and then a hug. "I won't do it again, big bro. At least, not tonight." Chuckling, she headed toward the hallway leading to the kitchen. "Now, come on; let's go help Bella before-"

"Since when do you punch, kiss, and hug me?"

Alice stopped and turned around, frowning again. When she answered, her words came out slowly and with obvious confusion.

"Since…we became more like brother and sister than like two perfect strangers who happened to share a bloodline and a surname?"

I nodded slowly. "I see."

"What is your prob-"

"Who's Jasper?" I asked.

Her eyes grew wide. For a moment, she just stared at me.

"You're funny, Edward," she laughed. "Now, come on."

"Is he here or in England?"

"Why the hell would Jasper be in England?"

"So he's…your boyfriend? And…he lives in New York, and you do too?"

Alice blinked excessively.

"Just…humor me for a sec," I said, offering her what I hoped was an appeasing smile. "How long have you been back in New York?"

She blinked once more, extremely slowly this time. "You need me to remind you that I came back to New York years ago when you called me and asked me to come back?"

" _I_ asked you to come back?" I pointed at myself.

Her gaze narrowed.

"How about your internship?" I asked.

"I…dropped out of it," she said in a tone which implied I should've known this – which, I suppose I should've. Nevertheless, I couldn't keep the shock and disapproval from my voice.

"You dropped that internship? Alice, that was a great opportunity; the kind of opportunity that only comes along once-in-a-lifetime. Had you stayed with them, they probably would've offered you a shitload of money once you passed the Bar, and you'd probably be on your way to partner right about now."

Her mouth fell open. She closed it and opened it a few more times before she spoke again.

"Edward, _you_ called me late one Christmas night, and you said you'd just discovered what everything was really about, the true meaning of it all, and you wanted to share it with me because…because I was your family," she finished in a whisper.

" _I_ did that?" I asked incredulously, thinking to myself what a selfish prick Brooklyn Edward appeared to be. " _And_ I asked you to drop that internship – to give up that great, fucking opportunity – and come back here?"

She nodded.

Again, I fisted my hair. "For what? What did I say I'd discovered that could've possibly been more important than that opportunity?"

"Edward, what the hell is-"

"Daddy! Where are you? Come help me crack the nuts with the nutcracker!"

I sighed. "Lily needs me. We'll resume this conversation later," I said, shaking my head as I headed for the kitchen.

OOOOO

When I walked into the kitchen, Isabella and Lily were turned away from me, which gave me a few moments in which to attempt to compose myself after that bewildering conversation with Alice.

What in the world could I have possibly discovered that would justify my asking Alice to leave her internship in London?

I was momentarily distracted from that train of thought by the sight of Isabella – or more accurately, Isabella's backside.

She and Lily stood together, with Lily on a stool while they worked on something over the narrow, cheap counter space in this narrow, dated kitchen. Earlier that evening, when Isabella first arrived from wherever she'd been, she'd had on her coat, of course – the white coat I recalled her wearing to court, and which always made me thinks of fairies.

Now, she'd taken off her coat, of course. Like Lily, Isabella wore a red, festive, velvet dress. It fell to just above her knees. She also wore a pair of black, leather boots, which ended right below her knees, and left about four inches of caramel knee exposed. Why the fuck I found that so damned sexy, I had no idea, but I sure as hell did.

Also, Isabella's red velvet dress was wholly unlike Lily's in the way if fit her. It wasn't a tight fit, but the dress's velvety material followed and caressed every dip and curve of her body, highlighting a arrow waist which widened into a round and plump backside – a round and plump backside that swayed from side to side as she and Lily danced and sang to the Christmas music playing on the small, kitchen stereo in one corner of the cluttered counter.

"Jesus, she's shaped perfectly," I murmured.

"Daddy!" Lily said, turning and jumping off the stool.

Isabella turned around as well.

At first, a wide, happy grin, much like the one she'd sported when she first arrived this evening, graced Isabella's beautiful face. Apparently, she was ready to forgive and forget. When that grin faltered as soon as she caught my eye, I frowned.

For one long moment, we stared at one another. Then, Lily jumped up into my arms, and I instinctively picked her up, cradling her against me.

"Daddy, help us crack the nuts," Lily said.

" _Shell_ the nuts, baby," Isabella corrected. Then, to me, "You're finally done with your shower." She'd composed herself enough to offer me a smile, which didn't reach her dark eyes. "You look very handsome."

"Thanks. You look beautiful, Isabella."

I watched her throat move as she swallowed. "Thanks." The word came out quiet and shaky.

As the mutually bewildered silence spread out between us, it was Lily who broke it with her sweet innocence.

"The nutcracker makes my fingers hurt, Daddy." She waved her little fingers in front of my face. "Can you _please_ help me?"

"I'm so sorry, honey," I grinned at her. "Daddy'll shell the nuts."

I walked over to the counter where Isabella and Lily worked and set Lily back on the stool between us. Then, silently, I picked up the silver nutcracker. The radio and Lily's singing filled the silence.

"Bells will be ringing the glad, glad news…"

"Let's not sing about bells," I said, winking at my daughter.

"Why not, Daddy?" Lily giggled. "I like bells."

Out of my periphery, I could see Isabella's eyes on me as she chopped whatever she was chopping.

"Never mind." I smiled at her. "So, show me how this works, Lil."

"Silly, Daddy! You know how the nutcracker works! Cracking nuts is your job cuz it hurts me and Mommy's hands."

"Hmm," I said noncommittally. I'd never picked up a fucking nutcracker in my life. "Why don't we just buy nuts that have already been shelled?"

Isabella was the one who replied, though her eyes remained trained to her chopping block.

"Because they're more expensive."

"Hmm," I said again, nodding slowly. "So, Lil, let's pretend I don't know how to shell nuts with a nutcracker because I've always bought my nuts already shelled. How would I do this?"

Lily chuckled. "You mean like another game, Daddy?"

"Yes, just like another game."

Lily took the nutcracker from me, then gingerly picked up a pecan in its shell and placed it within the tool's prongs. Then, with a sweetly dramatic groan, she wrapped both hands around the nutcracker and pressed hard.

"All right, Lil. All right." I laughed as I took the tool from her. "I think I've got it now." Mimicking her actions, I cracked the pecan, and Lily threw her hands in the air.

"Good job, Daddy!"

Even Isabella chuckled.

"Lily, honey, now that Daddy's taking care of that, do me a favor and please go make sure the house looks nice and tidy."

"Okay, Mommy." Lily jumped off the stool and headed out of the kitchen.

She didn't speak right away, but I could feel her gaze on me as I shelled nuts like nobody's business.

"So. What's going on, Edward?"

"What makes you think something's going on, Isabella?" I replied carefully.

"Well, for one, you keep calling me Isabella."

Shit. "I'm sorry."

Again, she didn't speak right away. When she did, her voice was low and impassive.

"I didn't ask for an apology."

Anxious to change the subject, I grabbed onto the first thing that came to mind like a life-raft.

"Just out of curiosity, Isa- Bella," I corrected myself, "remind me why we've updated the second level of this house but not the first level?"

She stopped chopping and turned to face me fully. "Excuse me?"

I shrugged. "It's just…it's bad enough we live in Brooklyn," I smirked. "Why haven't we renovated the entire house? I'm sure we have the money for it; at least, thanks to my job."

Isabella crossed her arms against her chest, which served to lift her perky breasts higher, which further served to distract momentarily as she replied.

"I'm sorry, what did you say?"

She gave me an incredulous glare. Sighing, I raked a hand through my hair.

"I just mean that as a partner with Potter and Potter, I'm sure I make-"

"A partner with…" she murmured. Her nostrils flared, smooth forehead furrowing so deeply it made her rich, dark eyes narrow into slits; much in the same manner they'd done in Judge Weber's chambers a few hours earlier – or in another dimension.

"What the fuck is going on here, Edward? Seriously?"

"Nice. What happened to no cursing?"

"Around Lily, Edward." She set her hands on her perfect hips. "No cursing around Lily. You know that, babe." Despite the term of endearment, there was nothing endearing in her tone. "You're the one who gets the most pissed off when Alice forgets and curses around her."

"Yes, _that_ I know," I said smugly. "I just spoke to Alice about it in the living room. And by the way, I discovered something else while I was in the living room. Clear something else up for me, _babe_ ," I hissed mockingly, unable to control my fury. "Emmett," I spat.

Isabella raised her eyebrows. "Yes?" she prompted all bold-faced. "What about him?"

I snorted and shook my head. "Seems like he's got a whole lot of _admiration_ for you."

"I hope so. I've got a whole lot of admiration for him too."

"I remember you talking to him tonight," I accused. " _That_ night, I mean."

"You're going to have to be more specific here, Edward. I talk to him all the time."

"Do you now?" I sneered. "At least you're honest. So, did you love him? _Do_ you love him?"

"Of course, I love him," she shot back. "I'll always love him."

At that moment, my heart contracted so painfully, so bewilderingly, it took all my mental fortitude not to storm the fuck out of that kitchen and head for that silver bell. Because if that was the case, then what the _hell_ was I doing here?

But…but Lily – Lily loved _me_ , and I loved her. And I wondered if perhaps…perhaps she was the only reason why Isabella had agreed to marry me - because at some point, I'd gotten her pregnant.

"Then, why are you and I-"

Isabella cut me off. "Wait, is this a game, Edward? Is this like one of those games you play with Lily all the time?"

"What?"

"What should we call this one?" she asked. "Let's See How Much of an Asshole I Can Be Tonight?" Then, she shook her head quickly and scowled. "Because I've got to tell you, I'm not particularly enjoying this game of yours."

The doorbell rang, and in the next moment, a loud cacophony of booming voices filtered in from the living room, every voice at once and rising over the other so that the result was just one, big unintelligible discord.

Isabella shut her eyes and sighed. Then, eyes still shut and swallowing thickly, she took a step toward me, lifted herself on her toes, and brushed her mouth to mine.

Her kiss was soft this time, without any of the urgency from earlier, but there was a pleading quality to it, and I returned the kiss hungrily, sucking on those delicious lips.

But…when she pulled back, her bottom lip quivered, and she met my eyes only for a moment before flashing them away. When she spoke, her voice shook.

"Let's drop this for now. They're all here."

Then, she turned and walked out of the kitchen with her head hung low.

* * *

 **A/N: Thoughts?**

 **Facebook: Stories by PattyRose**

 **Twitter: PattyRosa817**

" **See" you guys soon!**


	6. Chapter 6

**A/N: Thanks so much for your wonderful thoughts.**

 **Most characters belong to S. Meyer. Some belong to Capra, Dickens, and we'll see who else. ;)**

 **All mistakes are mine.**

* * *

 **OCE – Ch 6**

In college, I was Captain of the Princeton Wrestling Team.

Once, a whole lot of pride went along with that fact; the sort of pride I hadn't felt much tonight, for a few reasons – my new address, my new clothing, and the possibility that my…wife, might be in love with another man, just to name a few.

Why those thoughts ran through my head about a half minute after I followed Isabella into the fray will soon become apparent. Right before those thoughts, however, she and I reached the living room, where we both momentarily lapsed into shocked silence.

In the middle of the room, two massively huge beasts circled Lily, measuring her up, and ready to pounce.

My daughter shrieked.

"Lily!"

I roared and lunged without thought, without a second's hesitation, neither seeing nor hearing anything but Lily. One of the beasts sensed me coming, and when it turned and lunged as well, we collided mid living room. In the next moment, I was splayed out on my ass and pinned to the floor, having my breath trampled out of my lungs while the furry beast licked the ever-living shit out of me.

 _That_ was when the aforementioned thought ran through my mind.

In my defense, a few other thoughts fleeted through my brain on the heels of those thoughts; though, with an overgrown mutt licking me from throat to forehead I probably didn't pay them the attention they merited. It wasn't until later…much later, that I actually examined the thoughts. Nonetheless, they went along these lines:

I, Edward Cullen, former captain of the Princeton Wrestling Team may have been laid out by a fluffy dog, but _I_ had a daughter – a sweet, highly intelligent, and unbelievably beautiful daughter.

Also, while the house wasn't exactly modern, whoever took the time to decorate it and make the second level's renovations…she had great taste, and she made the entire house attractive, cozy, and warm for her family.

And the last one to cross my mind, though by no means whatsoever the least important, _I_ had a _wife_ ; a wife who, like our daughter, was also highly intelligent, beautiful, and sweet. While she wasn't acting too sweetly at the moment, Brooklyn Edward had apparently done something right once to deserve her, even if, by her own admission, she still loved this Emmett dude.

So…perhaps, Brooklyn Edward wasn't quite such a loser after all.

But, these were all thoughts for later. At that moment, once I realized that Lily's shrieks were more elation than fear, all I could think of was getting out from under the disgusting mongrel.

"Get this mutt offff-" The beast licked my mouth and shut me the fuck up.

From somewhere above me, an unfamiliar, southern-accented female voice laughed her ass off.

"Tom! Tom, sweetie, bad boy! Get off of Uncle Ed! You know he doesn't like your tongue in his mouth first thing. Boys, get Tom off Uncle Ed before his nice Christmas polo gets ruined."

A series of young hands materialized and pulled back the dog, uttering reassurances to both me and the animal in age-descending order:

"Get over here, Tom. Get off of Uncle Ed."

"Good boy, Tom. Uncle Ed, it's just cuz he loves you."

"Sorry, Uncle Ed!"

With the thing finally off me, I sat on the floor and spotted Lily a few feet away. She was on the floor as well, giggling her little head off, with her arms wrapped around the other animal's neck as it licked her cheek to cheek.

"Jerry, you're gonna get Lily's beautiful dress all wet! Honey, say something to these darn dogs."

The woman sighed in an exasperated manner, but she was still laughing. At her request, from somewhere across the room, someone whistled loud and hard, and the reply came in a thick, Brooklyn accent:

"Hey, Tom, Jerry! Get ovuh here!"

Jerry, the dog kept right on licking Lily while the dog tags on the other one, Tom, jiggled merrily across the room.

The man's booming voice erupted in roaring laughter. "Darn doougs! Hey, Ed, fuhget about those doougs, and get ovuh here, will ya? I swear, every year it's the same thing wit yous three!"

The woman kept right on laughing. Meanwhile, I stood and brushed off dust, melted snow, and dog saliva, scanning the room:

Three boys of varying ages were currently involved in a game of Tag with the dog who attacked me. By the door, a handful of people pulled and pushed Isabella… _Bella_ and Alice in a dozen different directions. They hugged and squeezed them, handed over coats, hats, scarves, presents, and food, all talking frenziedly over one another.

Lily was still down for the count, laughing so hard her little back arched off the floor.

And from the stereo now blasting in a corner, a Christmas song provided the background cheer for the entire holiday scene.

" _You will get a sentimental feeling when you hear voices singing let's be jolly-!"_

"Ho. Lee. Fuck. What the hell just happened?" I raked a hand through my hair.

"Isn't it a great life?" the woman behind me asked.

"It's fucking chaos is what it is."

She snorted. "Well, _that's_ not your usual reply."

When I turned around, a tall, blond, blue-eyed, and hugely pregnant woman eyed me curiously, with her head tilted to the side. She had one hand on her hip while the other was spread over her protruding stomach, on which an image of Rudolph the Reindeer lit up, red nose flashing and all. A pair of red, skintight tights and red sneakers completed her holiday getup, as did the bright red lipstick and the flashing Santa hat on her head.

I blinked away from the blinding, flashing lights of her hat. "Excuse me?"

"I say 'Isn't it a great life?' and you say, 'No, Rose, it's actually a…?" she prompted.

I swallowed and scrubbed a hand over my mouth, while the woman frowned and waited. When I failed to reply with whatever the appropriate refrain was, she offered me one of those confused grins I'd been receiving all night.

"Come on, Ed!" She stomped her sneaker and chuckled. "You couldn't have possibly forgotten. You say it every year."

"I…" I scratched my head.

"Edward's not feeling too well tonight, Rose."

Isabella…Bella slid up next to me. For a second, my panic simply multiplied. But then…Bella slipped her hand inside mine. I released a furtive breath of relief…and of pure, unadulterated comfort because Bella's hand felt like the warmest reassurance, like the most peaceful and natural touch I could've ever imagined.

"Aww, poor baby," the woman… _Rose_ said much more sympathetically. "Too bad. I know it's your favorite holiday."

"Yeah, well…" I replied vaguely, chuckling and raking a hand through my hair. My eyes strayed to that flashing nose on her stomach, which she kept rubbing around and around.

Rose noted my momentary distraction and chuckled. "Is it that you're not feeling well or is it more like you're startin' to see how hectic life's really gonna get for you and Bella come next sum-"

"Hey, Ed!" The same loud-mouthed guy called out again. "Come gimme a hand wit this, will ya?"

"Not now, Rose," Bella said, smiling and shaking her head. "Edward, let's go see what he wants."

I wasn't sure I wanted to find out what he – whoever _he_ was – wanted because whatever it was, I was pretty sure it would get me in even more fucking trouble. But Bella spun us around, and we headed toward the crowd – hand in warm hand. And that right there was worth risking more chaos.

"Thanks for rescuing me back there." Squeezing her fingers, I stopped us for a few moments, both hoping to find a way to keep from making the required greetings at the door…and wanting to prolong the feeling of Bella's hand in mine for as long as possible.

She shrugged, yet her narrowed eyes remained trained just past my shoulder.

"No problem. I love her to death, but I know Rose is a lot to deal with when you're not in the mood."

Bella chuckled, and I chuckled with her, hoping to prolong that as well. It was strange; every time I heard that sound, one which I'd rarely heard outside of this dream/vision/bout of insanity, I wanted to hear it more and more.

"And anyway, you shouldn't be forced to say something you're obviously not feeling tonight, just because you've said it every Christmas since we got married." She gave me another shrug, and there it was: proof I'd fucked up somehow, yet again.

So, when she made to resume our walk, I tugged her gently.

"It's not that, Bella," I said, having no idea what I was saying.

She lifted an eyebrow. "Then, what is it?"

"Bella…"

Her eyes met mine for the briefest moment, searching, then skimmed away, but not before I noted that hint of disappointment yet again. She sighed when I failed to expand.

"Well, at least you're no longer referring to me by the name you knew me by back when we hated one another." When she made to pull away once more, I held on tight.

"Hey… _Bella_ ," I grinned, "you may have hated me once, but I _never_ hated you. In fact, I admired you a hell of a lot from the very beginning."

When she offered me a hint of a smile, it gave me the courage to continue.

"From the very first time you walked into that courtroom, you looked like an angel ready to kick ass."

She chuckled much more heartily, and my weirdly enough, my heart soared. "Yet, I was the one who got her ass handed to her."

"I wouldn't say that," I contradicted. "Bella, you lost that case because the law was clearly on my clients' side. All I did was regurgitate a few paragraphs of case law, while you...you put your heart and soul into fighting for what you believed, for the rights of those people. Had the law not been so clear-cut…who knows?" I grinned and shrugged.

"Who knows?" she said quietly. "Well, in either case, it sure turned out to be an important case in more ways than-"

"Hey, Edward!" Someone else called me, voice more impatient now.

"Yo! Ed! Bella won't go poof into thin air if you step away from her for two minutes!" Raucous laughter.

"Oh, leave him alone. He's always been that way with her. But, Edward, honey, can you please come here?"

"Edward, come here and help us with this. After all, you're the one who asked for it."

"Damn," I spat, raking my free hand through my hair. "Bella, what do you mean-"

"Never mind, Edward," Bella murmured, smiling wistfully. "We can't do this right now. Come on." Before I could stop her, she pulled her hand out of mine and headed toward the door and those waiting.

Four pairs of eyes locked on me, anxiously, expectantly. A brawny guy gestured impatiently with his hand.

"Edward!"

"Give me a sec…uh, dude. I'll be right there!" I called out.

Fisting my hair, I turned and found Lily and the three boys chasing the two, gigantic dogs around the Christmas tree.

"Lily, honey, come here." When I waved her over, she left the dogs and boys behind and skipped happily to me, jumping up into my arms. "Are you ready for the next round of our game?"

"Ooh, yes, Daddy! I love this game!" She clapped her hands.

"Okay, good," I whispered hurriedly. "Lil, this round here is what they call a Lightning Round, cuz we've got to move it along quickly, all right?"

"I love lightning rounds!" In her enthusiasm, my four-year-old daughter forgot to whisper. More than one pair of unfamiliar eyes turned our way curiously.

"Hey, Ed, Lil, what are you two going on about over there?"

The question came from the older gentleman with graying dark hair and a dark mustache. He grinned at us curiously, then appeared ready to take a step in our direction.

"Nothing! Nothing, uhm…we're good." I offered him a hasty grin in return and a wave, turning my gaze back to Lily.

"Lily, we've got to keep the game quiet too, so that if others want to play after you they won't hear you and know your answers."

Lily gasped, her emerald eyes narrowing, much like I was learning her mom's tended to do when she was upset.

"You mean like cheating, Daddy? Cheating's not nice," she pouted, shaking her head.

"No, it isn't. So." I tapped a finger quickly to my mouth. "Okay, here we go. We're going to call the first half of this lightning round the 'What are the Names of the People in this Room and Who Are They to Me?' round, and you've got to spit out the answers one after the other." I snapped my fingers in illustration.

Green eyes rounded and sparkled. Lily jumped up and down in my arms, barely able to contain her excitement.

"Ready? Go!" I gestured toward the old man with my jaw. "The old man."

"Charlie! Grandpa!" Lily whispered fast.

"The woman next to him."

"Renee! Granny!"

"Makes sense," I murmured, nodding to myself. "Bella looks just like her, caramel skin and all, and just like you." I tapped Lily's nose, making her giggle. "Okay, okay. Back on track. The guy next to Granny, who looks like her but an angrier, male, frowning version."

"Harry! Great-Uncle!"

"Your great-uncle or Mommy's great-uncle?"

"My great uncle! Mommy's uncle! Uncle Emmett is my uncle!"

I stopped and straightened, nostrils flaring. She had my daughter calling _him_ 'Uncle?"

"Who the…fff…heck is Emmett?"

"Silly, Daddy," Lily giggled, pointing at the brawny guy on the other side of Bella's mom. Like Bella and her mom, he shared their caramel skin-tone. "That's Uncle Emmett; Mommy's brother."

"Wait, what? You mean Emmett…is her brother?" I murmured more to myself than to Lily. Nonetheless, Lilly replied with another giggle.

"Yes, Daddy. That's why he's my uncle, just like Aunt Alice is my aunt because she's your sister."

I chuckled at her level of intelligence – and at my own stupidity. "Man, you're smart. And yeah," I snorted, "yeah, that's usually how it works, isn't it? He's her _brother_. That's why they're close." I repeated it with a wide grin, startled by how…relieved it made me.

"U-huh," Lilly nodded in one of those 'we've already established that' manners.

I thought of Alice for a moment, and what a useless brother I'd been to her all of our lives; even worse, just a short while earlier I'd obviously said something to upset her.

"All right," I said, feeling…so much lighter about the Emmett and Bella situation, yet bothered by how I'd left things with Alice. I'd have to find her soon.

But for now, Lil and I needed to finish this game. Apparently having tired of waiting around for me, Emmett – my wife's _brother_ – strode our way.

"Yo, Ed!"

"Okay, Super Lightning Round here, Lil. The three boys, from oldest to youngest."

"Embry, Eric, and Tyler! Cousins!"

"Uncle Emmett's kids, right?"

"Yes! And Aunty Rosie's!"

"The woman with the flashing Rudolph shirt."

"Yes! And Baby Cora's in her belly!"

"Got it. As usual, you did beautifully," I whispered, kissing my daughter's cheek soundly just as Emmett reached us. She giggled.

"I swear I've never seen a little girl so attached to her daddy. I sure hope Baby Cora loves me like you love your dad."

His eyes were on Lily as he spoke in a booming voice which may have intimidated most little girls. But, the wide and friendly grin he wore made him look more like a giant teddy bear than a grizzly.

"How 'bout some love for your uncle?" When he moved in with a growl and kissed her cheek, Lily laughed heartily.

"I'm sorry, Uncle Emmett! Daddy and I were playing a game."

"What else is new with yous two?" he grumbled playfully as he pulled back. Then, he turned his attention to me.

"Emmett. My _brother-in-law_ ," I grinned, reaching out to shake his hand. "You have no idea how glad I am – to see you, I mean."

Emmett looked down at my hand and then back up to me. With a snort, he ignored my hand and instead reached out with one arm and pulled me in for a hug, patting me heartily on the back.

"The fuck is that handshake shit?" he whispered close to my ear, too quietly for Lily to hear. Then, he laughed. "What are we, just meetin' or somethin'? Merry Christmas, bro," he said as he pulled back and returned his attention to Lily.

"Hey, Lily, can you do Tom and Jerry a favor, and bring them a couple of bowls of water before they get into the Christmas tree's reservoir again and your mom and dad blow gaskets about it…again?"

"Sure, Uncle Emmett." Lily smiled and gestured for me to set her down.

As soon as she scampered off, Emmett wrapped an arm around my shoulder.

"Ready to greet the rest of the fam?"

"I am now," I grinned.

"Then you're more prepared than I am for the night!" Emmett roared again and guided me to the door.

OOOOO

I was beginning to learn things here. For one, it might serve me better to listen more than talk. For another, you could learn a whole lot about your relationships with people with how they greeted you by the door.

Bella's dad, Charlie, gave me one of those one-armed hugs his son had just given me.

"How ya doin', my boy?" he said, expression neutral, but his arm remained around my shoulder, his grip firm, holding eye contact.

"I'm good, sir."

"Sir?"

"Charlie," I corrected.

"Charlie?" he frowned.

"Pop!"

He chuckled. "The hell was that all about?"

"Edward's not feeling well today, Dad," Bella said, yet again. "He's forgetting names, disliking people he used to like..." She smiled as if she was joking, but there was no real humor in it.

At this pronouncement, there were various reactions.

Emmett laughed and said something in Spanish.

Great-Uncle Harry rolled his eyes. "I hope whatever it is isn't catchy," he grumbled. "Can't afford to get sick at my age. Bella, if your husband's sick, you shouldn't have invited people over. Damn thoughtless and irresponsible of you is what it is."

I stared at the old fart. "Excuse me, but did you just call my wife thoughtless and irresponsible – and in her own home?"

"Edward," Bella said.

"Bad enough I gotta watch all these unruly kids and stinking dogs running around all night. Now I gotta worry about getting sick, too?"

"What the…?" I looked from one face to another, and though everyone wore varying looks of annoyance, no one said anything.

"Excuse me, Uncle Harry?" I said.

"Edward," Bella hissed.

"Please don't ever come here and call my wife thoughtless and irresponsible."

"Edward!"

"Bella's the most thoughtful and responsible woman I've ever met. She dedicates her life to helping others yet she still manages to find time to raise a perfect little girl with me and to make a home out of this boxy house. What's more, please don't ever call my daughter unruly – and while I'll agree that the boys and the dogs are definitely…exuberant, they're boys and dogs, and I'm sure that's what boys and dogs are supposed to behave like."

The old man muttered something in Spanish.

"What the f-"

"Edward," Bella said quickly, cutting me off and reaching for my hand again, squeezing it tightly. "It's all right, babe," she whispered.

Meanwhile, Emmett and Charlie chuckled heartily, and Renee tried to suppress a smile.

"'Bout time someone gave it to you straight, Uncle Harry," Emmett said.

"But, Bella-"

"Don't worry, Uncle Harry; it's not catchy," Bella replied to her uncle. "Edward, babe, come help me bring the appetizers out from the kitchen."

With her hand around mine, she led me past everyone and into the kitchen, rounding on me when we reached the old counter.

"Babe, what the hell was that about?" she asked.

"You're asking _me_ what that was about?" I asked in disbelief. "Your Uncle Harry is an asshole."

Amazingly, she chuckled at this. Then, she went to the fridge and opened it, pulling out tray after tray.

"Yes, Edward; we've known this for years, babe." She straightened out the various appetizers on the trays. "He's a fucking Grinch, and that's why he's all alone, and that's why we invite him over year after year." Sighing, she looked up at me. "Because the guy never learned to care for anyone else but himself, and now, he has no one else."

"So, _we_ have to deal with him?"

She blinked in confusion. "Edward, while I appreciate you defending me and Lily and the kids and the dogs, it's always easier to just ignore him. You know this." She picked up a tray and handed it to me.

"Now, come on. I know you're not in the mood tonight, but…for our family's sake, let's grin and bear it. Jasper'll be here soon too, and then we have to go-"

I wrapped a hand gently around her arm before she could walk away from me.

"Bella, it's not that I'm not in the mood tonight…"

"Then _what_ is it, Edward?" she asked in exasperation.

"If I told you, you wouldn't believe me."

She set down her tray. "When have I _ever_ made you feel like you can't speak to me? We've always been open with one another."

I swallowed thickly. After a minute, she sighed and picked up her tray. "Let's go."

OOOOO

In the living room, while everyone partied, Emmett took me aside and led me out to the garage – a decent-sized though unfinished one, where I almost whimpered aloud at the Mazda four-door and matching SUV parked there.

"What. The fuck. Happened to my cars?"

Emmett looked at me. Then, he laughed.

"You're funny. Anyway, I've been trying to show you these all night," he chuckled. "I mean, you bugged me enough for them, I would've thought you would've been more eager to see them."

Off in a corner of the garage, a white sheet covered an irregular shape.

"Ta da!" Emmett said as he pulled off the sheet.

A few, long and narrow boxes were piled up, one on top of the other, in four rows. I walked around the boxes, examining them.

"Fucking shits were heavy as heck," he said, "but they should be enough for the entire first level. I gotta tell you, Ed; Dad, Uncle Harry and me had quite the time loading them into the truck, but I think it'll be worth it, and worth the wait too."

They were floorboards – wood floorboards. Good quality, as far as my inexperienced eye could tell, and that shade of gray I'd noticed Bella favored.

"Bella's going to go nuts when you give her these for Christmas."

I looked up at Emmett. "I'm giving my wife floorboards for Christmas?"

He frowned momentarily. "Yeah; she's been wanting these floors for years for the main level of the house, but…they were expensive. That guy I told you about was able to get me a great deal, though."

"They look great, but…floorboards, Emmett?"

His frown deepened. "You sound like Uncle Harry. _'He's giving her floorboards for Christmas? What a loser._ '" he said, imitating his uncle. "Meanwhile, he comes over empty-handed like he does every year. I gotta tell you, I know my sister wasn't too happy when you told off Uncle Harry, but the guy had it comin' for years."

"Is this how hard she and I have it, Emmett, that I have to give her floorboards for Christmas?"

"How hard…? Ed, what's going on with you tonight?"

"Fucking…floorboards," I spat, fisting my hair. "How can she be happy like this? Living in this house? Receiving floorboards from her husband for Christmas instead of jewelry, cars, trips around the world?"

Emmett stared at me, blinking. "Dude," he finally said. "I've never seen a woman happier than my sister. These floorboards…jewelry…Ed, ever since your grand gesture a few years ago, Bella's been the happiest woman in the world."

"My grand gesture? Emmett…Emmett, what was the grand gesture?"

" _'What was the Grand Gesture but merely what justice demanded of me?'_ Yeah, yeah; I've heard that before. You and I have discussed it, and I know you don't like talking about it too much," he smiled, patting my shoulder. "It embarrasses you, but man, sometimes you're too humble about it."

"What?"

"What, indeed?" he snorted. "Fine. I won't bring it up." He waved it off. "My point is, Ed, Bella has never wanted or needed big houses or jewelry or fancy cars or trips around the world. All she's ever _needed_ is you – you and Lily," he grinned, "and now that she's-"

"Edward, Emmett, where are you two?" From the house, Bella's voice rang out.

"Shit, let's go," Emmett said. "You don't want her seeing her Christmas present before Christmas morning!"

Then, with his hand on my shoulder, Emmett shoved me out of the garage; just in time too. We met Bella right at the laundry room which led into the garage.

"What are you two up to?" she asked, smiling, her arms wrapped around herself to keep the chill poorly-insulated laundry room at bay.

"Nothing. Nothing at all," Emmett chuckled guiltily as he sprinted past her, leaving us alone.

Cradling her head in my hands, I leaned in and brushed my lips against her forehead.

"You cold?"

"A little."

I pulled her close, and slowly…she wrapped her arms around my waist.

"Better?"

"Yes."

"Bella…Bella, how did we get here?" I murmured.

Unfortunately, it was the wrong thing to say. Bella pulled back, and when she tilted her head upward and met my gaze, she gave me a wistful smile.

"You once knew that instinctively. Come on." She took my hand. "Lily's looking for you."

* * *

 **A/N: Thoughts?**

 **Facebook: Stories by PattyRose**

 **Twitter: PattyRosa817**

 **"See" you guys soon!**


	7. Chapter 7

**A/N: Thanks so much for all your wonderful thoughts. Hectic time of year, but I'll try to have this complete before Christmas!**

 **Most characters belong to S. Meyer. The rest belong to me or to Capra or Dickens or…well, we'll see. ;)**

 **All mistakes are definitely mine. ;)**

* * *

 **OCE – Chapter 7**

Despite my ambivalence with the holiday, since reaching adulthood, I'd attended quite a few Christmas parties; yearly, actually. After all, as an attorney with Potter & Potter aiming to make partner, I had to attend such inane events for the networking, connections, and contacts which accompany them.

Nevertheless, I'll admit I found a certain level of enjoyment at these holiday parties; side perks such as vintage wine, expensive champagne, the tastiest caviar, the best wagyu, and of course, the Christmas bonuses.

Another bonus at these unavoidable holiday parties: the women – women dressed in long, sequined ballgowns and dripping in diamonds; women ready for a dance across the ballroom to Tormé's jazz, to Sinatra's ballads, or even to a Tchaikovsky waltz. There were women ready for stimulating conversation and for whatever came after stimulating conversation. With any luck, it was the both of us.

I was expected at one such party that Christmas night, to be held at a private ballroom inside Lincoln Center. It was at this party where, I was relatively confident, Aro and Marcus Potter planned to announce me as the newest partner at Potter & Potter. Aro's daughter, Kate, a junior partner at the firm, had given me a heads up.

And up until a few hours earlier, I could almost smell the top-grain leather and mahogany wood of that corner office. I could picture myself standing before the office's floor-to-ceiling windows, wearing one of my favorite three-piece suits, hands deep in my pockets, and with an admittedly smug grin across my face as I gazed out at the rising sun across the New York City skyline. Master of the fucking universe, indeed.

Now, I wasn't really sure of what I was master, if of anything. Obviously, in this dream/vision/bout of insanity, I hadn't gotten that corner office or else Bella and I sure as hell wouldn't be living here.

These were the thoughts in my head while everyone partied around me – definitely not the sort of Christmas Eve partying I was accustomed to.

Instead of Tchaikovsky or Sinatra, some current pop star sang a shitty rendition of a holiday classic. Instead of men in tux's and women in ballgowns dancing around a marble dancefloor, my Lily and Emmett's boys ran around the house either chasing or being chased by the dogs. Instead of waltz's, the kids rocked around the Christmas tree, and I mean literally rocked. They knocked down presents and decorations while almost all the adults stood around laughing with one another, exchanging jokes instead of business contacts, drinking eggnog in place of vintage wine, and either not caring about the destruction going on around them or choosing not to worry about it for the night.

And I did my best to ignore the mayhem and join in the conversations as much as possible, as much as I could without saying something else that would bring a frown to Bella's beautiful face or a confused grin to Emmett's rough but friendly one or a look of annoyance to Alice's young face.

"Can someone tell these darn kids to stop all this infernal running and screaming?"

Off in a corner of the room, Uncle Harry sat stiff and alone on a wooden chair. More than once, Bella had asked him to join the rest of us by the tree or by the mantle. She offered him eggnog. She asked him if he needed a blanket. He ignored her every question and offer, and with each ensuing instance, my nostrils flared wider, jaw squared tighter.

Now, he started in on the kids – on my Lily.

"The whole lot of them needs to learn some manners," he muttered next, scowling at them as they ran around.

Oblivious, Lily shrieked happily when one of the boys caught up to her during their game of Indoor Tag.

"For the love-!" Uncle Harry yelled, banging his open palm on his knee. "Will you stop shrieking like a banshee?"

"Kids!" I growled in frustration.

All four kids and the two dogs stopped at once. Every single pair of eyes in the room fell on me. But my eyes were on Lily, who watched me through rounded, green eyes which appeared unsure as to whether to be terrified of her daddy...or not. Meanwhile, in my periphery, I could see Bella off to the side, watching me as well – ready to pounce like a lioness. And God, I thought her even more wonderful for it.

So, when I spoke, I spoke slowly and carefully, making sure there were no…further misunderstandings. We had more than enough.

"Kids…Lily, when you run around and scream, please make sure you all stay as far away as you can from Uncle Harry. He doesn't like to see people having fun too close to him."

Everyone in the room broke out into fits of laughter.

"Okay, Daddy!" My Lily giggled and resumed her game with her cousins and their dogs.

When I looked at Uncle Harry, he snarled at me and looked away.

Emmett patted me on the shoulder. "You don't have the patience for him tonight, do you?" he asked.

"No," I scowled, "not at all."

Emmett snickered. "Good. The old fart doesn't deserve patience. He's lucky you and Bella are willing to host him every year."

I snorted. When I felt a warm hand on my arm and turned around, Bella offered me a look which was supposed to be chastising but fell far short. Instead, she chuckled as she handed me a clear glass of...eggnog. Fuck.

"Here," she grinned. "You look like you need this."

I chuckled in return. "Thank you."

Out of my periphery, I saw Emmett walk away.

"Am I really being that much of a dick?" I offered her an apologetic smile.

"No," Bella said softly. "Not that much. Anyway, I understand your impatience with Uncle Harry this year. He _is_ behaving worse than usual."

"Is he?" I asked, breaking my embargo on questions before I could stop myself.

But Bella just chuckled again. "I know it's hard to tell from one year to the next, but he does seem to get meaner as the years go by."

I raked my free hand through my hair. "That's actually pretty sad. He's a miserable fucker."

"He is." Bella laughed heartily, shaking her head. "But it's his own fault. He made his choices in life."

I took a sip of my eggnog, licking my lips and smiling down at my glass. "This eggnog is actually pretty good."

"Coquito."

I snorted. "What?"

"It's coquito, not eggnog. Mom's recipe. You know this, and yes, you love it."

"Oh. I could've sworn I heard Rose say it was eggnog this year. But remind me of something," I said quickly after that lie, "what were the choices that brought your Uncle Harry to this?"

"It was a few different ones, I guess," Bella shrugged. "He was a banker, remember?"

"Oh, yeah."

"Mhm. Down on Wall Street. Made a fortune buying high and selling low!" she said, imitating a trader's anxious voice. But then, she sighed. "Unfortunately for him, that's all he ever concerned himself with – making money. Never built any relationships, never thought of anyone but himself, and then one day…"

"What happened? He lost his fortune?"

She met my eyes and offered me one of the many confused smiles I'd been offered tonight.

"No, Edward." She frowned. "Uncle Harry is loaded; you know this. One day, he just found himself…old; old and alone. Just look at him."

I looked at the old fart, sitting off alone in a corner, scowling and glaring around at the room.

"Well, he does look miserable and old, but I'm not so sure he minds being alone," I said. "He doesn't seem to actually _want_ anyone around him."

"He does," she said quietly, looking at him as well. "Yes, he has money coming out of his ass, but he has no one to share it with. Do you really think that doesn't…kill him on some level? You don't think that may be the very reason why he's so miserable, because he simply doesn't even know how to enjoy himself at this point?"

For some reason, a shiver ran up my spine.

"That's…pretty sad," I repeated.

"Yeah, it is. Which is why you and I invite him over every Christmas – even if he behaves like an ass." She placed a warm hand on my arm. "We have to pity people like that, Edward, who never learned what you and I know." She swallowed. "People who never shared what you and I share."

I held her gaze, wanting to ask so much…so badly.

When a loud commotion broke our gaze, we both looked in the same direction, to where a tall, blond guy in about his mid-twenties walked through the front door, shaking the snow off his shoulders and banging his boots on the welcome mat.

Alice let out a shriek. Crossing the room in two strides – then again, it wasn't a huge room – she wrapped herself around the guy before he could even shake all the snow off himself. In turn, they both laughed when she got wet. The guy wrapped his arms tightly around her and lifted her feet off the floor.

Emmett's laughter boomed. "My man! You made it!"

"Aww," Rose said. "Just look at them, Em honey. Bless their little hearts!"

Lily shrieked next. She jumped up off the floor, where she'd been stroking Tom's – or Jerry's – stomach and ran break-neck to the guy.

"Lil, be careful!" I called out, earning a chuckle from Bella.

My daughter, however, ignored me. She wrapped her little arms around the guy's snow-soaked leg.

"Now, she's getting her pretty dress all wet," I muttered.

"Relax," Bella chuckled again. Her warm hand was still on my arm, and she squeezed tightly, comfortingly. "It's just a dress."

When the guy let go of Alice long enough to look down at my daughter, obvious affection rather than annoyance in his gaze, he redeemed himself. And when he picked her up and kissed her cheek, making her giggle, I smiled.

All the while…Bella's hand remained on my arm. It was that which made it hard for me to focus, to think clearly. Perhaps it's why I fucked up, yet again.

"That's Jasper, I take it," I smirked.

"What?" Bella said.

I cleared my throat. "Uh, Jasper's here."

"So, I see," she chuckled.

Jasper looked up and spotted us. Grinning, he crossed the room, hand in hand with Alice, while Lily returned to her cousins and the dogs.

"Bella," I said, keeping my eyes trained on Alice and Jasper, "can I just…ask one thing?"

She hesitated for just a fraction of a second. "You've always been able to ask me anything, Edward, even when you weren't sure what my answer would be."

"Is Alice happy?" I asked as Alice and Jasper made their way toward us, both grinning broadly. "I mean, really happy despite having left the internship in London?"

Unlike a few seconds earlier, this reply was instantaneous. "Yes, Edward. Alice loves her life; she loves what she does now; not just for the pride or glory or…money. She loves having us around, having _you_ – her brother – in her life, even if your parents are never around. _You've_ taught her what family means. She's getting married next summer to her best friend…to one of _your_ best friends. Of course, she's happy."

"Good." I didn't trust myself to say more, didn't trust my voice, didn't trust that I wouldn't ask more – _How_ did Alice meet Jasper? What could _I_ have possibly told her about family which would've made her return?

"Edward?"

When I looked down and met Bella's gaze, she was full of questions as well. For one long moment, we remained locked in one another's confused eyes. And in that one moment, every last question begged to escape past my lips. Mostly, most of all, and more than anything I'd ever wanted in my life, I wanted to ask Bella about _us_.

I wanted to know if she was really as happy as Emmett said she was back in the garage. I wanted to ask if it was truly possible for Brooklyn Edward, who had his precious wife and beautiful daughter living here and who gifted his wife floorboards for Christmas, to make her as incomparably happy as Emmett had implied?

I wanted to ask…if there was even a remote possibility that _I_ could ever make her that happy?

But in this dream/vision/bout of insanity, questions only caused trouble. Because I was supposed to _know_ the answers to all these questions – I should've known them _instinctively_ according to Bella.

And so Jasper and Alice reached us before either one of us verbalized anything more between us.

And I _was_ learning; instead of a handshake, after Jasper greeted Bella with a warm hug shared by those who were more than passingly familiar with one another, I pre-emptively gave him a one-armed hug when he moved in to greet me. The fact that he pulled back grinning proved that yes, I was learning.

"I just came back from the office. Everything's set for tomorrow," he said.

"That's great!" Bella said.

Of course, _I_ had no fucking clue what was set for tomorrow. However, it appeared that Jasper worked with me at Potter & Potter – which would explain why, as Bella had just said, he and I were good friends. Perhaps, he was a junior attorney whom I mentored.

Either way, he, Bella, and Alice all looked at me expectantly, as if awaiting my input.

"O-kay. Great."

Jasper offered me yet another one of those confused grins I'd been receiving all night, and which frankly, were beginning to irritate the shit out of me. After a couple of seconds, apparently realizing he wasn't going to get more from me, Jasper continued.

"So, all the companies are set up and ready. We've got quite a few new ones this year joining the project," he grinned. "It should be a record-setting turnout. Of course, the decorations are in place as well, but-"

"The Company Christmas party!" I blurted.

"Uh…yeah," Jasper said. "I suppose we can call it that. It _is_ a celebration," he smiled.

"Jasper, I'm so proud of you," Alice said. Getting on her toes, she kissed him soundly on the cheek.

"Yes. Thanks so much for everything you've done tonight," Bella added.

Once again, they all looked to me.

"Yeah. Thanks."

At my side, I heard Bella's quiet sigh.

Jasper looked definitely confused.

Alice was beginning to look irritated.

The guy scrubbed a hand across the back of his neck. "Uhm…I looked into the interview as well, and that should be airing-"

At this point, Bella dropped her hand from my arm, and instead, she placed it gently on _Jasper's_ arm. When she spoke, her voice was warm and soothing.

"Jasper, you've taken care of everything wonderfully. Thanks so much for helping out, so that _Edward_ ," she stressed pointedly, "and I could spend time with our family, especially knowing how things…" she paused and smiled, "well, they'll be different come next year."

"How will-" I began, but then thought better. "Never mind."

"Thank _you_ both," Jasper said, "for allowing me to be part of such an amazing enterprise for the past couple of years."

Amazing enterprise? Yeah; we were definitely talking about Potter & Potter.

"You know you're more than just a co-worker; you're family, too," Bella said. And even though she'd just replied for me, she gave me an expectant look, raising an eyebrow.

"Edward?" she prompted through a tight smile.

"Of course," I added distractedly. "Of course, I'm grateful."

Out of the corner of one eye, I could see Bella's eyes on me, but I couldn't make myself meet her gaze. Once again, I could feel the disappointment rolling off of her. And with every successive time I let her down…my heart contracted more.

"Well, now that we're all here," Bella sighed, "let's eat."

* * *

 **A/N: Thoughts?**

 **Facebook: Stories by PattyRose**

 **Twitter: PattyRosa817**

 **"See" you soon. :)**


	8. Chapter 8

**A/N: Thanks so much for all your wonderful thoughts. It's a hectic time of year, so I can't get back to your reviews just yet, but please know how much I appreciate hearing from you!**

 **Most characters belong to S. Meyer. Some belong to Capra, Dickens, and now possibly a screen writer by the name of David Berenbaum! ;)**

 **All mistakes are still mine.**

* * *

 **OCE Chapter 8**

For the first decade or so of my life, Christmas Eve Dinner meant a meal in which my parents, Alice – once she was old enough – and I sat around the twenty-seat, oval mahogany table in the formal dining room, dressed in our festive clothing, and avoided eye contact with one another while carrying on empty and inane conversation.

At Father's command, James and Mrs. Cope served an appetizer of chilled lobster salad, a main course of prime rib with a side of haricots verts sautéed in a red wine reduction, and pomme tartiflette with reblochon cheese and Belgian onions, and all of it as prepared by Laurent, our chef. Dessert varied from year to year, depending on Laurent's whims, but lots of French names ending in ' _ées_ ' spring to mind: Soufflés, Crème Brûlées, Pièce Montées, to name a few.

Afterward, Mother and Father would kiss our cheeks, pat our heads, and wish us a Merry Christmas. Lastly, they'd spare James a few, impatient minutes while he quietly and furtively informed them what Santa had waiting under the Christmas tree for their offspring come morning. At that point, Mr. and Mrs. Cullen would climb into their waiting limo and be whisked off to whatever grown-up, holiday entertainment awaited them.

Once Alice and I got older, our parents began leaving the city or even the country for Christmas; holidays in Aspen or in the Swiss Alps became the norm for them, while several nannies ensured their children's needs were met. One side result of this new arrangement was that the unnecessary 'Christmas Eve Family Dinner' came to an end – a welcome relief for all involved.

Those formal, gourmet, and well-presented dinners of the past on the Upper West Side of Manhattan only vaguely came to mind as Christmas Eve dinner was carried on around my wife's and my eight-seater oval, wooden table in our house in Brooklyn – an eight-seater table with five, extra fold-up chairs squeezed in all around to fit nine adults and four children, all under the age of nine.

It was fucking chaos.

But…after the first few minutes…

"Yo, Ed," Emmett roared from across the table, "will ya please pass that pernil over so I can have seconds before you have thirds? Bella, your husband's acting like he's never had your pernil before." The ribbing was followed by one of his signature, good-natured chuckles.

With a somewhat-though-not-really-embarrassed chuckle of my own, I passed over the tray.

"Of course, I've had it before," I hedged, "but every year, it gets better and better."

I risked a look at Bella, curious to see her reaction while at the same time wary of the deeper hole I may have just dug for myself. For all I fucking knew, I _hadn't_ ever had her roast pork before. But when she offered me a satisfied and somewhat teasing grin in return, I furtively exhaled in relief.

"I'm glad your mood of the night hasn't affected your appetite."

A few people laughed.

"He sure has been in a crappy mood," someone snickered.

"Yeah, I noticed it too when I walked in."

"Aww, _pobrecito._ "

"Uncle Ed got mad when Tom stuck his tongue in his mouth!"

"No, he didn't! My Daddy's always happy!"

"Em, honey, look, he's smilin'! Looks like the poor darlin' was just hungry."

"The pork is dry and bland. And the rice is no better."

While all this went on around us, across the table, Bella and I remained locked in one another's gazes. Even had I wanted to, I don't think I could've looked away, mesmerized as I was by this new way she looked at me; her dark eyes burning, but not in their usual, furious manner. Not that the raging burn wasn't a gorgeous sight, but…this was a thousand times better. It was hypnotizing.

Blinking a handful of times, I finally recovered the power of speech. "Tease me all you want, _Wifey_ ," I smirked. "You know I love your cooking." I patted my flat stomach in mock illustration.

Bella didn't miss a beat. "Yes, I know you do," she said, her grin widening, eyes following my hand down to my stomach, then quickly back up to me. She snorted. "But, please, _Show-off_ ; you know there's nothing there."

More snickers broke out around the table and emboldened by them but more so by the challenge in Bella's dark, expressive eyes, I dared another risk.

"That's because you keep me fit."

The adults at the table erupted in peals of laughter. "Hold on there, yous two! Keep it PG around the table! We've got grade-schoolers present!"

"That's what I always tell them," Alice joined in, "but they're _always_ like this!"

While everyone laughed and teased us, I watched Bella release a series of uneven sighs. She swallowed, her smooth brow furrowing slightly – confused by what probably seemed to her temperamental mood swings. But…but she no longer looked disappointed.

Instead, her cheeks colored, took on that caramel-mixed-with-pink rather than the scarlet hue of indignation. In this setting…surrounded by friends and family, backlit by the Christmas tree and the warmth of holiday lights, she was a Christmas Queen. She was glorious. And God, I never wanted to look away.

Therefore, that's precisely what I did. Because there was too much to figure out and too many friendly yet curious eyes around. Yet all I could think to myself was, 'What would a lifetime of this be like: a lifetime of teasing between Bella and me, of laughter with our family and friends?'

Could I…could I remain here if I chose to – if I never rang that bell-

"Daddy, what does that mean that Mommy keeps you fit?"

"And there ya go. You asked for that," Emmett mock whispered. "Let's see you get out of that one."

I looked down the table at my daughter, who grinned at sweetly, innocently…adoringly.

"It just means Mommy and I like to keep our family healthy so we can be together…" I swallowed, "for a long time."

Lily grinned widely, readily accepting the answer. "Okay, Daddy!"

Charlie reached across the table and patted my shoulder. "Good save, son."

"Thanks…Pop."

Emmett snickered. Again.

Renee…Mom cupped my cheek in her warm hand. "I see you're feeling better," she said quietly while the rest of the table resumed their eating and loud chatter.

"I think so, Mom," I smiled. My eyes flashed across the table again, to where Bella kept shooting me quick glances between her conversations. "I don't like seeing her upset," I murmured, more to myself than to Renee. Nonetheless, the woman who was my mother-in-law in this dream/vision/bout of insanity chuckled quietly.

"Of course, you don't. But we all have off days. You're a good husband and dad, Edward, and you've set a high bar for yourself."

I sighed and raked a hand through my hair. "Yeah, he sure has."

"What?" Renee gave me one of those frowning grins.

"Nothing," I smiled. "Nothing at all." I returned my attention to my plate of Christmas Eve dinner. "By the way, Mom, your rice and beans are delicious."

Renee laughed. "You've always loved your Christmas Eve dinners. It's no surprise it's brightened your mood."

OOOOO

After dinner, Bella's parents kept an eye on the kids and on Uncle Harry, while the rest of us cleaned up. With stomach's full, and with Renee's special eggnog flowing freely, we moved around with relaxed ease, joking, laughing as we piled into the small kitchen that wasn't really built to fit six adults.

While Bella and I loaded the old dishwasher, Emmett pulled out a few bottles of beer from the fridge and handed them out. We all took a moment to open and then clinked them together.

"Cheers!" Emmet said in his booming voice

"To health," my wife said, smiling at me.

"To happiness," Alice grinned at her fiancé.

"To love," Jasper replied.

"To growing families! Woo-hoo!" Rose said, rubbing her stomach and laughing.

They all looked at me. "To the future, and…all its possibilities."

I offered Bella a wink, watching her caramel cheeks turn pink.

"Here, here!"

We all clicked our bottles together.

"All right, guys, let's take this to the living room. The womenfolk got the rest here," Emmett whispered playfully.

All three women stopped and rounded on the men.

"Babe, it wasn't me," I said, putting a palm up and grinning. "That was your brother."

As she turned her eyes to Emmett, I watched Bella's eyes darken in a way I quickly recognized, flashing furiously, and admittedly…pretty fucking hotly. She placed a hand on her hips.

"Little bastard," she said to a brother about twice her height and breadth, "don't fucking think because we're women the clean-up automatically falls to us."

Emmett roared. "Mom, Bella called me a bastard again!"

"Bella!" Renee called out from the other room.

Bella rolled her eyes.

"Bella's gonna kick your ass, honey," Rose smiled, "and I'm totally gonna let her, you fucking caveman, you." She pressed herself against him, stomach and all, and proceeded to shove her tongue in her husband's mouth.

"You love my caveman ways," he said in between kisses. "Got that fourth bun in the oven there to prove it."

"Ooh, I do love it," Rose breathed.

I looked away somewhat uncomfortably; not so much because of their very public display, but because...

Bella was watching me and biting her lip. At that moment, the expression on her face couldn't be called anything but…lust.

I swallowed thickly, my feet closing the small space between us in this already crowded kitchen. She angled her head upward, locking her eyes on me, searching my eyes. I cupped her soft cheek, praying she found whatever she was looking for because God…I wanted to…

Emmett shoved my shoulder hard. "Come on, Ed. You'll have plenty of time for _that_ later. Let's go have our beers."

Bella smiled up at me. "Go on; we'll be right there."

OOOOO

By the time Bella, Alice, and Rose emerged from the kitchen, a couple of beers each had done a pretty good job of relaxing us all further.

The kids, of course, had no need of outside stimulants. They ran and played around with the dogs. They barked while the boys chortled, and Lily giggled, and Uncle Harry's frown deepened. I watched him scowl at the world from the lonesome, corner chair to which he'd once more retreated. For a moment, I did feel that modicum of pity Bella of which Bella spoke.

Nevertheless, I didn't have much time to spare Uncle Harry. The TV and radio were both on at once, the radio turned to holiday music and the TV to one of those Christmas classics where the miserly guy saw three ghosts in one night. No one was paying either TV or radio much mind, too busy talking and laughing. It was fucking Bedlam – and it was terrific.

Eventually, the dogs tired and took a rest by the fireplace, and when Lily began dancing, Bella joined her. Then Alice and Jasper joined in.

I watched Lily giggle while her mother swung her around, and I wondered…how it was possible to feel so much pride in such a thing? In a little girl moving around goofily while a beautiful woman swayed her hips in proper tune to the music? I wasn't even sure when my legs carried me toward them, but in the next moment, I picked up Lily and supported her in one arm while wrapping the other around my wife's slender waist.

"May I join in?"

Lily giggled. "Silly Daddy, 'course you can."

Bella gazed up at me and offered a teasing smile. "Don't forget I never learned to waltz."

I snorted. "I never liked waltzing anyway."

From one song to another, we moved around the tight, makeshift dance floor - a dance floor made even tighter when everyone, except Harry, joined in the fun.

"Uncle Harry!" I called out, "Come join us!"

He waved away my invitation, muttering something I couldn't hear over the loud music.

I chuckled and shook my head, returning my attention to my girls.

Bella looked up at me. "The important thing is we try."

"You have such a good heart, Bella," I murmured. "How did I win it?"

She didn't reply, but our eyes remained locked, steps slowing. My mother-in-law approached and took Lily's sleeping frame from us.

"You two keep dancing," she smiled, "I've got her."

Swallowing, I wrapped both hands around Bella's hips, my heart racing when she rested her hands and then her head on my chest.

" _Christmas Eve will find me where the lovelight gleams…"_ I sang along with the lyrics, whispering the next line close to her ear. _"I'll be home for Christmas…if only in my dreams."_

Bella picked up her head, and slowly I leaned in…

"It's on, it's on!"

I startled backward at Jasper's shouting. "What the?"

His eyes were on the TV over the mantle, remote control in hand. When I heard everyone's gasps, I turned my eyes to the screen.

Bella and I were up on TV.

"Oh, my God," I heard her chuckles beside me, "we're on!"

"Someone turn off the stereo!" Emmett roared. At the same time, Jasper raised the volume on the TV.

Alice laughed excitedly. "Shh, shh! Everyone quiet! Let's listen!"

The kids sat on the floor with the dogs, their small frames vibrating yet commendably still.

Up on the screen, Bella and I were in some sort of TV station, seated in one of those low-budget, makeshift studios on a cheap couch. The camera panned outward, and I saw Bella wore the same dress she wore now. Her shapely legs were crossed at the knees, and like now, she showed just a sexy sliver of skin between the hem of the dress and the top of her black, leather boots.

I wore a suit.

"That's...one of my old suits," I murmured.

Again, she laughed beside me. "What? Yeah; yeah, it is. It's the last one that's stuck around. You looked very handsome in it this afternoon. Too bad you spilled that wine on it and had to take it off. Now, Shh!" she shushed me with a chuckle. "Let's hear how stupid we made ourselves sound this afternoon!"

The camera panned outward even more, so that now the TV audience saw the interviewer seated across from Bella and me. He was an extremely tall man, sitting on a high stool, and wearing an almost childlike grin along with a bright green suit that clashed with his bright red hair.

"Welcome back to New York One!" the green-suited guy said, throwing a fist in the air. "I'm your host for the evening, Buddy Elfman! And on Christmas Eve, when our thoughts turn to family, happiness, and goodwill toward our fellow man, _we're_ fortunate to have as our guests a couple who embody all these aspects of the holiday season: Edward and Bella Cullen! Welcome!"

Bella offered him a friendly though shy smile. "Hi, Buddy. Thank you. We're honored to be your guests today."

I…or rather, Brooklyn Edward, cleared his throat and grinned. "Yes, we're honored. Thank you, Buddy."

With a breath, Brooklyn Edward laid a hand on Bella's knee and stroked it, an action he appeared to take instinctively, without thought. In the next moment, his eyes widened as if realizing he was stroking his wife's knee on TV. He made a quick attempt to lift his hand, but Bella reached and covered his hand…my hand with her own, weaving our fingers together.

I watched myself exhale in relief. "I'm sorry." I cleared my throat on screen. "I'm a bit nervous, and my wife's proximity relaxes me."

"Oh, that's fine," Buddy said, grinning widely. "I'm sure our viewers don't mind watching a little affection between a happily married couple."

On screen, both Bella and I chuckled sheepishly.

Buddy chuckled along with us. "All right, let's get to why you're both joining us tonight, other than to show us how happily married you are to each other."

"Thanks, Buddy." I watched my hand squeeze Bella's before I took another breath. "Well, my wife and I are here tonight to promote our fifth annual Christmas Day fundraiser, the 'Let's Celebrate Like It's Christmas Every Day Fair,' which will be held tomorrow in Downtown Brooklyn."

As I spoke on screen, our host, Buddy, literally jumped up and down on his stool.

"Look at him; he's so excited!" my Lily yelled from the floor, her little fists clenched as she jumped up and down on her behind as well.

And onscreen, Buddy Elfman echoed Lily's exact thoughts. "I'm so excited! Tell us more!"

Bella laughed. "Well, the 'Let's Celebrate Like It's Christmas Every Day' fair is my husband's brainchild. We started it on Christmas Day, five years ago, funded…entirely by my husband. Edward provided the raw materials, and we invited men and women of all ages to stop by on Christmas Day and just…build something for their fellow man, whether it was a toy for a child who wouldn't be receiving gifts that Christmas or a dresser for a woman who had nowhere to keep her few clothing items, or a crib for a newborn who perhaps slept in an empty drawer. And we found that…things just grew from there in a way we never imagined. People began building entire bedroom sets for those who perhaps slept on the floor, or they made toy crates and filled them to the brim with toys to donate. They started volunteering their time and effort on renovations in apartments or homes where the landlords refused to do work. In time, people began building _homes_ to donate! Then, they gave clothing and furniture, toys and pots and pans to fill those homes, and-"

"Like Christmas magic," Buddy breathed, eyes rounded.

"Exactly like Christmas magic," Bella smiled. "And it turned into a fair where people come together every year to help in any way they can, large or small. It grew so much that we created a nonprofit organization, the Christmas in Our Hearts Foundation, where we organize and provide legal, financial, and housing assistance yearly to those in need."

Buddy shook his head, one hand over his mouth. "Amazing…just simply amazing." He dropped his hand and smiled at me. "You're so quiet, Edward."

On screen, I raked a hand through my hair. "My wife is a much better communicator than I am, which is why she runs the foundation. I'm just a silent partner," I grinned.

In the studio, Bella grinned at me. "Sometimes, my husband is way too humble. He's much more than my silent partner."

Buddy broke out into loud fits of laughter.

"Tell me something, Edward," Buddy said, leaning in closer to me. "And I want to hear this from you, not from your wife, whom we've already established is amazing. What. _exactly_. precipitated this idea, the start of this foundation?"

In a living room in Brooklyn, surrounded by my wife and by our family, I held my breath and waited for my answer.

On screen, I grinned and squeezed Bella's hand.

"A few years ago, Bella and I were attorneys on opposite sides of a legal battle."

"And you fell in love and lived happily ever after?" Buddy interrupted, clapping his hands eagerly.

Bella laughed. "Not exactly. I lost the case, and very bitterly, I might add."

"I wouldn't say that." Brooklyn Edward gazed adoringly at my wife. "You were very graceful in that courtroom. But I'd say more that…what came out of that lawsuit showed me what really mattered in life. It showed me what really stays with you when the money's gone – friendship, respect…love," I whispered.

"Stupidity," Uncle Harry muttered from his corner of the room. "Giving everything up for something as stupid as love is stupidity itself. So stupid," he spat.

"But to answer your question truthfully, Buddy," Bella said on screen, "yes, I was attracted to Counselor Cullen from the very beginning; though, I would've never admitted it back then – not to him or to myself. I thought he was Scrooge personified," she chuckled, "even if every time he looked at me…" she held my gaze, "well, his gaze was anything but Scrooge-like. I think I began falling in love with the way he looked at me. Nonetheless, it's what he did afterward, his grand gesture when he-"

"All right, all right!" Buddy interrupted waving his hands wildly in front of Bella's and my face. "That's all the time we have for tonight!" He turned to the screen and stood, moved toward the camera, and lowered his head so that it completely filled the screen.

"Merry Christmas everyone! And remember," he said, his gaze almost appearing to zoom in on me, "sometimes, we can turn our dreams into reality _if_ we strive toward them!"

The show cut to commercial.

In the middle of a boxy living room in Brooklyn, wearing mall-store clothing, surrounded by friends, family, two dogs, a cluttered Christmas tree, and two used cars in the drafty garage of a semi-renovated, old house, I stood frozen.

Brooklyn Edward was…not Upper West Side Edward – not by a long shot.

Brooklyn Edward had apparently given up _everything_ to be where he was now.

* * *

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	9. Chapter 9

**A/N: Thanks so much for your wonderful thoughts! It's a hectic time of year, so I haven't been able to get back to your reviews while I try to get my shopping done AND update, lol. But, I love reading them, and I appreciate them all, and I will get back to them when I can.**

 **So, this is where I start claiming we're nearing the end – three or four chapters after this one? I'm trying to hit 'Complete' on this before Christmas, so we'll see. Might be another update later on today. :)**

 **Most characters belong to S. Meyer. Some belong to Capra, Dickens and even a guy called David Berenbaum. ;**

 **All mistakes are still mine.**

* * *

 **OCE Chapter 9**

One good thing about the old house in Brooklyn was the gorgeous view it provided of the Manhattan skyline. Situated at the corner of a quiet side street just a stone's throw from the Brooklyn side of the Brooklyn Bridge, there were no obstructions to the steel and concrete jungle on the other end, unless one counted the thick snowflakes still falling that Christmas Eve night. It blanketed the entire city in a gauzy quilt, glittering and sparkling as it undulated over the skyscrapers which rose and fell in an uneven outline – an outline whose shape, bright lights, and unflinching silhouette I'd recognize anywhere, from any angle. Yeah, the view from here was definitely unparalleled; one you could only achieve when you were on the outside looking in.

It was such a great view, in fact, that if I stood in just the right spot – under the raised garage door to which I'd stealthily retreated for a few moments of solitude in an effort to gather my wits, organize my turbulent thoughts, and try to figure out WHAT THE FUCK HAPPENED – then, I could even make out a sliver of the river's waters reflecting the light of the moon.

I squeezed my eyes shut tight, dropping my head and pinching the bridge of my nose as I fought back the mounting pressure of a familiar tension headache. They were headaches I sometimes suffered from when in the middle of particularly brutal cases. A tension headache was the last thing I needed right then. Yet, there it was, building with every word I muttered in my continued state of disbelief.

"Well, if nothing else, one thing's sure: everything's gone. No denying it to myself anymore, not after hearing it straight from my own mouth. Fucking cars, the clothes, the money, the penthouse, ugh – the _damn corner office!_ " I groaned, rubbing my temples. "An entire damn career I worked my _ass_ of for at Potter & Potter." I snorted. "Everything gone, to fund a-"

"A tension headache?"

When I spun around, Bella stood by the door to the laundry, just a few short feet away from me. She held her arms wrapped around her frame, guarding herself against the cold which seeped in through the open garage door and hid in every corner of this poorly-insulated part of the house. Her brows were drawn together, eyes narrowed as she took me in.

"You're rubbing your temples," she pointed out.

"Yeah. Yeah, tension headache," I said, dropping my hands from my temples.

"You haven't had one of those since…well, in a long while."

Silence.

"Edward, what's wrong?"

"Nothing," I said quickly. "Nothing. I…I'm just getting some fresh air, seeing if it helps with the headache. Go back inside, Bella. I'll be right there."

She didn't move. I swallowed and locked my jaw, trying with all my might to keep my damn mouth shut, keep my convoluted thoughts and mixed-up questions and _everything_ in between to myself. Because I knew at that moment, if I spoke, nothing good would result. I'd fuck up everything for which Brooklyn Edward apparently gave up everything. Or I'd destroy this perfect little corner of a dream which was based on a scenario where it was _all_ I had.

"Bella, _please_ go inside," I pleaded, fisting my hair in both hands. "I just need a few moments to myself."

"A few moments to what?"

"Just to…please go back inside." I turned my back to her and drew in a long breath, releasing it in one prolonged exhalation as I tried to quell the throbbing in my head and regulate my heart rate.

"Why won't you tell me what's bothering you?" she murmured softly. "Why won't you share your burdens with me? We've always been able to-"

Even as I rounded on her with the weight of the entire baffling evening, with every ounce of frustration gathered over the past few hours, with the painful truth she'd misconstrue, and with all the force of my poisonous, confused thoughts, I knew it was a mistake.

"We've always been able to what, Isabella? To what? You and I have never done _anything_ beyond argue with one another," I hissed.

For one long moment, Bella simply stood there, arms wrapped protectively around herself, pretty mouth half open, dark eyes wide and unblinking as if she hadn't understood a word I said. And I should've stopped. I should've thanked my lucky stars for this woman's shock and bewilderment because I knew it couldn't last. She was too quick; too smart. But the dam broke, and the rest spewed forth like verbal vomit.

"You're not real, Bella! _None_ of this is real!" I threw up my hands and gestured wildly. "Not you, not this house, not Lily, not your family, not Alice nor Jasper! _None_ of it is real!"

As if breaking out of a trance, Bella took a handful of steps forward. When she lifted a hand, for a second there I thought she meant to slap me, and I would've deserved it. Instead, my wife laid a palm on my forehead.

"Edward, did you hit your head today? Are you coming down with-"

A growl of frustration erupted from deep inside my chest. I took a step back and out of her reach, my mouth still moving around a labyrinthian tangle of half-formed, under-developed thoughts.

"I haven't hit my head, and I'm not sick, Bella! Do you think I don't wish there was a way for all this to be real? But giving everything up? _Everything_ , when I could've given you and Lily the world instead! A kick-ass home, the best schools for her, jewels for you, trips around the world for the three of us. But what am I supposed to do now? How am I supposed to make this real? By giving everything else up? Is that what you want from me?"

"What _I_ want…?" She spoke slowly, her voice low, words measured and with a calm which should've calmed me in return. Instead, the evenness in her tone made the fine hairs on my arms stand on end. "I'm not asking you to give anything up. I've _never_ asked you to give anything up."

"Then, _how_ did we end up here?" I howled. "If you didn't ask me to give up that life, _how_ did I end up leaving Manhattan for Brooklyn? Leaving my penthouse for a fixer-upper? Leaving behind a lucrative career where I was on the verge of making partner, _partner_ for God's sake!" I stressed, pressing my palms to my head. "To head a nonprofit? When did I trade in ballrooms for crowded, boxy living rooms; silent, formal Christmases for…? I mean, My God," I shook my head, raked a hand through my hair and just kept right on thinking aloud, "this is the total opposite of everything I ever thought I wanted. You and I were total opposites."

The silence between us stretched out like an ever-growing presence. All the while, the city lived and breathed around us, as unaware of what was going on as were those who were further within the house, carrying on conversations, laughing…giggling…

Bella finally broke the silence. "Are we opposites?" she murmured. "Once, I thought we were, but then…" The flash of pain which overspread her beautiful features was so sudden, so intense my heart constricted in a shared agony I'd never imagined possible. Instinctively, I reached for her.

"Jesus, Bella, come-"

But she stepped back, and in the next moment, her dark eyes shifted from confusion to despair…to hardened fury. When she spoke again, the quiver in her voice belied the deadly calm in her tone.

"Is that what you want, Edward? Is that what's been going on tonight? You want a nice, quiet Christmas? A nice, quiet, _lucrative_ life? Because you're welcome to have that life back if you've missed it so desperately."

"Bella, you don't under-"

"Don't," she spat through clenched teeth, raising her pointer finger sharply between us. "Don't you dare tell me that I don't understand. You feel like you gave up everything? Then, go ahead." She jerked her jaw toward the skyline behind me. "The Upper West Side and its penthouses and its sleek cars and fancy women and almost everything you left behind is still there, just a bridge away. You had it all once; you can have it all again. Go reclaim your filthy rich, perfectly organized…and perfectly silent life."

"Bella, you _really_ don't understand," I said, reaching for her again. "I just have no idea how I got here."

"Then go figure yourself out, Edward," she choked, taking another step back, "but I won't give you any guarantee that Lily, me, or…or _any_ of us will still be here when you do."

"And that right there is the problem. What guarantee do I have that if I wake up…if I give it all up, you'll be there waiting?"

She made no reply. Instead, my wife turned around and steadily walked back into the laundry room which led into the house. Then, she shut the door.

I turned and ran.

Feet pounding over pavement, they dug into the cottony snow, but I ran five fucking miles a day on my state-of-the-art treadmill, through all types of terrain. My heart pounded furiously. Frigid air invaded my lungs, turning to ice and stabbing me from the inside out like a thousand, prickly pins.

If I crossed the bridge, a bridge that was so damn close, what would I find on the other side?

Would my penthouse still be there, just across the park; a doorman holding open the door while he offered me one of the only smiles of my day?

Would my sleek cars be parked in the building's garage; grown-up toys ready to whisk me to wherever I wanted to go on a whim?

Would the custom-tailored suits which always earned me envious and lustful glances still hang in my huge, walk-in closet?

Would the corner office with the kick-ass view – the pinnacle of all my hard work – still be waiting at Potter & Potter?

Would there be another man living _my_ life?

Was Brooklyn Edward in my penthouse at that very moment, wondering how the fuck he got there?

It was that thought which brought me up short. Because Brooklyn Edward wouldn't wonder. He'd never stand in the middle of my penthouse, wasting time wondering how the fuck he got there. No. Brooklyn Edward wasn't that stupid. He had more important things going on his life, the best things…too many _real_ things to waste time with the bullshit trappings of what wasn't real.

No. The moment that Brooklyn Edward found himself so far removed from Bella and Lily, from his wife and daughter, he wouldn't stop to ask questions; he'd move heaven and earth to return to them.

He'd climb mountains, swim the deepest oceans, or scale down the highest fucking penthouse to return to his family…to the only beings in his life that brought him, _not_ bought him, true pride and joy.

My feet stopped so suddenly, I slipped and fell on my knees over the snow.

"What the fuck am I doing?"

Wildly, my eyes swept my surroundings, exhaling in unmitigated relief when I easily found and recognized the only fixer-upper on the block. My house – Bella's and my _perfect_ , beautiful home. I snorted to myself; it was only a half block away – I hadn't gotten far.

"Real or not," I breathed into the Christmas Eve air, a smile lifting the corners of my mouth, "nothing in my life has ever been _more_ real."

And with that realization, I took off at a sprint back to my home – to where the true treasures of my life awaited.

* * *

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 **Twitter: PattyRosa817**

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	10. Chapter 10

**A/N: Thanks so much for all your wonderful thoughts.**

 **I'm trying to get this story done, but I had to mention a review left by a GR:**

 **This GR suggested that perhaps I hadn't been in Brooklyn for a while, because for Edward's struggle to leave Manhattan behind to ring truer, it may have made more sense for him to have moved to the Bronx, since in the past decade or so, Brooklyn has become a hipster/yuppie haven. I have one thing to say to you, GR: You're totally right.**

 **Well, not so much about my not having been in Brooklyn for a while. My parents still live there, so I'm there pretty often. That being said, Edward's struggle with living in DUMBO (Down Under the Manhattan Brooklyn Overpass) which is where I've set their house, is pretty much total bullshit, lol. In my defense, the reason I set their home there was that I wanted them just a stone's throw away from Manhattan and with a great view of the skyline, for reasons which may have become obvious in the last chapter. Nonetheless, if they really lived there, their home value wouldn't be much different from a penthouse in Manhattan, lol. So yeah, I kind of screwed up, and if I were to ever rewrite the story, I'd probably pick a different setting for their home. So, thank you, GR, for calling me out on my bull, YET DOING IT IN A NICE, RESPECTFUL MANNER. ;)**

 **Most characters belong to S. Meyer. Some belong to Capra, Dickens and a screenwriter called Barenbaum. All mistakes are mine. :)**

* * *

 **OCE – Chapter 10**

Before pushing open the door which led from the garage into the laundry room, I drew in a series of deep, cleansing breaths, mentally prepping.

I'd messed up – badly – and now I had to find a way to explain things to Bella, perhaps even to our entire family.

From the other side of the closed door, I heard everyone's merriment. In spite of everything, the various sounds made me smile. I could already tell them apart; there were Emmett's Brooklyn accent and Rose's southern twang, Alice and Jasper's mutually adoring chuckles, the boys' heavy footsteps running around my house while my Lily's sweet giggles chased them, Uncle Harry's irritated shouts, Renee's calming voice, and Charlie's gruff laughter.

One voice, however, was conspicuously missing…

At the same time that I noted the missing voice, muted sobs seeped from the other side of the door. They were muffled, as if someone was trying their damnedest _not_ to sob, or at the very least, not to be heard. When I opened the door and flipped the switch, my heart dropped to my feet and shattered into pieces.

Bella…my wife sat alone in the cold laundry room. She was on a stool, her head down as she clamped a hand over her mouth to stifle her weeping. Startled by my reappearance, she looked up and gasped, dark eyes swollen and wet. In the next moment, her tears stopped, and her nostrils flared. She jumped up, preparing to storm away from me.

I reached for her.

"Bella! Bella, wait!"

Grabbing hold of her hand, I weaved our fingers together while she rounded on me, eyes shooting daggers.

"I'm sorry, baby. I'm sorry," I said in a rush.

"What happened?" she gritted. "Did you forget to take the roast, the Christmas tree, and the presents with you too? Why don't you wait until everyone's asleep, and then suck it all up the chimney and up your _asshole_ just like a fucking Gr-"

In spite of the situation, I couldn't help chuckling before I offered her an apologetic smile. "God, I love that mouth and that temper. But don't call me a Grinch," I said softly, "you know I've never liked that. Now, will you please stop and look at me?"

"Go to hell," she spat, trying to pull away from me, "or in your case, go back to your immaculate cave up in your precious West Side."

I swallowed hard. "I deserve that. I deserve everything you want to say or throw at me. But, please look at me, baby."

"No." In spite of her fury, her voice broke on that one word.

"God…Bella, please look at me. I'm so sorry. Please look at me," I begged.

Her nostrils flared wider with her effort to remain in control of her tears. When a whimper escaped anyway, I threw all caution to the wind and pulled her against my chest.

"Get off me, Edward," she cried quietly, arms stiffly at her side.

"I won't." I cradled her face and tried to guide her eyes to mine. "Fine. If you won't look at me, then listen to me because I don't care how I got here, Bella," I choked. "I don't care how _we_ got here. I don't care if it was magic or a dream or insanity, because you…you Bella Swan Cullen," I smiled through my tears, "you and Lily are the most precious…the most real…the most important gifts I'll ever be granted, and I don't ever want to let go."

She shook her head, tears streaking her cheeks, but then slowly…she met my gaze.

"Edward, from almost the moment I walked into the house this afternoon, I knew something was wrong. The way you looked at me…" she said, her voice strangled, "you looked at me like you were bewildered by the very sight of me, like you had no idea where I'd come from, like you had no idea where the past few years of your life had gone and no idea how we'd ended up together."

"Bella-"

"And all you did afterward was bitch and moan about how suddenly unsatisfied you were with every aspect of the life we've built together."

"No, Bella. I-"

"We sacrificed a lot, Edward, yes, but all this time, I thought you accepted the sacrifices. If that's not the case…I won't hold you back while you go and find whatever-"

"Listen to me," I said, holding her face between my hands gently yet tightly, "I'm not unsatisfied, Bella. I swear I'm not. No, I don't _accept_ the sacrifices,"

Her face fell. She tried to look away from me again, but I forced myself into her line of vision.

"I don't _accept_ the sacrifices, Bella; I _cherish_ them. I cherish them because they've made us into who and what we are: a family."

"Then, I don't understand-"

"Bella, I was scared. You see, I'd been…asleep for a long time."

She frowned. "You were supposed to be watching Lily while I was out."

I chuckled softly. "I know. I'm sorry. But while I…slept, I dreamed of a life without you, without you or Lily, and for a second…I thought it was a good life," I admitted shamefully. "I thought _that_ was real life. So, when I woke up, I woke up in a shitty, confused mood, and it took me a while to shake off the mood, to appreciate everything I've been given," I grinned, while Bella searched my eyes. "Because I've been given _everything_ , Bella – everything I never knew I wanted…yet everything I have no idea how I ever lived without."

In the next moment, Bella threw her arms around my neck. In turn, I wrapped my arms around her hips and pulled her up and against me.

"Oh, baby," I breathed in pure, unadulterated relief. "I'm so sorry for everything I've put you through tonight."

She pulled away, locking me in her gaze…and grinned. " _There's_ the look," she murmured, her eyes sparkling. " _That's_ how my husband looks at me." In a flash, she crushed her mouth to mine, breathing her life, her forgiveness…and her love into me.

"I love you, baby."

Memories flooded me: our wedding, honeymoon, Lily's birth – not everything all at once, as my memories of Lily flooded me, but enough to know that a life without Bella…was no life at all.

And all the while, her soft lips molded around mine, sucking gently, then hard and urgent, her tongue sliding into my mouth and wrapping itself around my tongue, the way she was now wrapped indelibly around my soul.

"I love you, Bella, with my entire heart and soul."

She smiled against my mouth. "And that…is how my husband kisses me."

I rested my forehead on her smooth one. "I was afraid, Bella; afraid that all this was just…too good to be true. But it has to be real; you and Lily…you're both too perfect not to be real. And I love having Alice home from London, and I love that she loves Jasper, and I even love Emmett his three boys, two dogs, and one Rosalie."

My wife chuckled heartily, her warm breath washing over me, soothing me.

"I love this life," I grinned, kissing her forehead. "I want to keep this life."

She looked up at me, her eyes sparkling and amused. "Well, that's good to know, since we've been married for a few years, we have a daughter," she took my hand and placed it on her flat belly, "and we have this little one on the way in about six months."

My hand froze. For one long moment, I couldn't speak. "Bella, you're pregnant?"

She gave me one of those frowning grins. "You're acting like you didn't know this."

I'd tell her, but not now. When we are alone later tonight. Instead, I grinned.

"Yeah." My grin grew. "Yeah! I…Oh my God." I wrapped her in my arms and lifted her feet off the floor. "How can one man have so much?"

My wife chuckled against my neck. "Our life isn't always easy, Edward…but we always have each other."

I swallowed hard and nodded, too…full of joy to speak.

Bella pulled away and met my gaze. "Are you happy, Edward? Has this really been a good life for you?"

I kissed her softly; reverently. "Bella, it's been a wonderful life."

OOOOO

We returned to a living room where, thankfully, no one seemed to have been the wiser about our prolonged disappearance. Except perhaps, our daughter.

"Daddy, Daddy!" She ran across the room and into my arms.

"Uncle Emmett said you and Mommy disappeared for a quickie. What's a quickie?"

From across the room, Emmett roared in amusement while I glared daggers at him.

He held up a hand between us. "In my defense, I was talking to Al and Jasper when I said that, and the little munchkin was apparently underfoot!"

"I'll take care of you later," I warned him, making him laugh all the harder while I tried to suppress a grin of my own. I turned back to Lily.

"Mommy and I were just…quickly cleaning up the laundry room."

"Oh," Lily nodded innocently. "Okay, Daddy! Daddy, we have to get me to bed. Aunty Alice says it's almost midnight, and Santa won't come unless I'm in bed. I don't want Santa to miss our house, Daddy," she pouted.

My heart clenched at the look on her face, and I hugged her tiny little frame close to me. But before I could think of a reply, Rose sidled up next to us.

"Oh, Shugah, don't worry Lily, princess. Santa always waits until the good little girls and boys are asleep, no matter what the time, and then he'll stop by. He won't miss your house."

Lily grinned widely. "Really?"

"Really, baby," Rose smiled, running a hand through my daughter's long hair while rubbing her belly with her other hand. "Speaking of which, Uncle Em and I gotta get your cousins home so they can get to bed too – though baby Cora's always in bed," she laughed. Then, Rose turned to me. "Eddie, honey, thanks so much for a wonderful night."

"Thank you guys for coming," I smiled in return, still holding my daughter in my arms. "And Rose? It's not just a great life. It's a wonderful life."

She threw back her head and roared with laughter, much like her husband tended to do. When she looked at me again, her blue eyes danced.

"There ya go, Ed. Where ya been all night?"

"I'm here now," I said.

"Good."

"Before everyone leaves," Bella said from across the room, "let's have a toast!"

I grinned as I watched her, at what a sight Bella made when she was happy. She snorted and shook her head as she looked around the hectic room, at everyone still laughing and talking and running, all who failed to hear her over the bedlam. But a joyful grin still lit up her beautiful face.

It was that…purely overjoyed grin that stayed with me afterward.

As she hollered for everyone's attention and went ignored, she chuckled and looked around her, searching for something, I suppose for anything to help her catch everyone's attention.

The moment I saw her eyes alight on the shelf, my heart stopped.

The shelf; the shelf which had gone forgotten by me for the past couple of hours. The shelf which held, the silver bell. The silver bell which held…my entire life in its hold – literally.

Time moved like quicksand, quicksand rising and choking me, cutting off the air in my lungs as Bella reached for the bell. In my periphery, I saw everyone in the room still moving around, unaware of the quicksand…my daughter touching my face with her warm fingers.

The quicksand rose higher and Time slowed all the more as I tried to yell, tried to make a sound, tried to warn my wife, to beg her not to touch that bell.

But…in the next moment…everything went dark.

* * *

 **A/N: Thoughts?**

 **Twitter: PattyRosa817**

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 **"See" you soon!**


	11. Chapter 11

**A/N: Thanks so much for all your wonderful thoughts! Trying to wrap this up, wrap presents, and get all my Christmas dinner and last-minute gift shopping done all at once, lol! So, I apologize if I haven't replied to your reviews, but I will once the craziness ends. :)**

 **Most characters belong to S. Meyer. Some belong to Capra, Dickens, and a guy named Barenbaum. The rest are mine. So are all mistakes.**

* * *

 **OCE – Chapter 11**

When the lights went back on-

"No. No, no, no, no, NO!"

I was in a…living room – a pristine, immaculate living room decorated sparsely and expensively with pieces and furnishings which were chosen by one of the top interior designers in the city. It was a living room meant to be admired not lived in…or loved in.

From up here on the thirty-fourth penthouse floor, the floor-to-ceiling windows opened up onto a post-card perfect, wintry view of Central Park across the street with the city's illuminated skyscrapers standing majestically in the background – a view to be envied.

"Bella!"

Even as I desperately called for her, I knew I'd receive no reply. My daughter's name emerged…hoarse, half-choked.

"Lily."

Only silence answered. Stupidly, I looked down at my hands, hoping and praying for that fucking bell.

"The bell! Where the hell…!"

Rotating my head wildly from side to side and up and down, I swept my eyes over every orderly and spotless surface in the room, then dropped to my knees and searched under the leather sofas, behind the sofas' plush pillows, in places I never touched in my life.

"It's got to be here somewhere! It's got to be!"

And all the while, I knew it wasn't, because _I_ didn't ring the bell. Bella rang it, and like her, the bell stayed behind in a Brooklyn which hadn't been real – at least, not real in the obvious sense.

"Please," I breathed, speaking to no one in particular as I searched the shelves on my mahogany bookshelf and threw books to the floor. "Please, it has to-"

"Mr. Cullen, sir?"

I spun around, and even though I didn't recognize the voice, for a split second, I allowed myself to believe…to hope it was someone from my world in Brooklyn. The intercom light was on, it's bright screen glowing by the front door.

"Mr. Cullen?"

I crossed the room and flipped on the intercom. From the screen, the temp doorman, George, grinned at me.

"There you are, Mr. Cullen. Mr. Cullen, on behalf of my management, I want to apologize for all the confusion of the evening."

"The confusion?"

"Yes, sir. The confusion caused by the power outage."

"Oh. The power outage." I raked a hand through my hair. "That's fine. I didn't- George, I don't care about that. George, do you remember the pack-"

"Sir, the power outage must've really ruined your night, especially it being Christmas Eve and all."

"George, I need to ask you something. Do you know who sent me the package you had that young boy, Little Tim, deliver up to me right before the power went out?"

"Why, yes sir, I do. My management sent up that package."

"Building management?" I frowned, then I waved away the question. Questions only got me in trouble. Questions only delayed my return to my wife and daughter. "George, I need them to send me another one of those packages, as soon as possible, like right now."

George offered me an apologetic grin. "Mr. Cullen, I'm afraid that's not possible. Management only ever delivers one of those packages."

My legs threatened to buckle, but I had to remain strong for Bella and Lily. They were probably bewildered at the moment, wondering where the hell I'd gone and how I'd disappeared into thin air. My poor, little Lily; this would definitely give her those nightmares of which she was so frightened. And Bella…God, my wife was pregnant. She didn't need a scare like this.

"Did anyone else in the building get one of those packages, George? I need to know so I can beg them to give it to me. I'll pay any amount-"

"Oh, I'm afraid not, Mr. Cullen. Management delivers very, very few of those packages on Christmas Eve. Far as I know, you're the only one…in a long while…and for far distances to have received one tonight."

Fear and desperation clawed at my chest. It made me bang the side of the intercom with an open palm. "Please, George! There has to be a way to get another one of those packages!"

"There isn't, Mr. Cullen." The smile was gone from George's face. Instead, he simply looked...sad and sympathetic. "Those bells are very rare, and only-"

"Wait a minute; I never said there was a bell in the package."

On the intercom screen, George swallowed. "I'm pretty sure you did, Mr. Cullen."

"And I'm positive I didn't," I hissed. "I'm not going to waste time with questions, George. I need to get back to my wife and daughter. That's all I care about. Please tell me how to get another bell."

"That's the thing, Mr. Cullen." George shrugged. "You only ever get one bell. Once it's gone…it's gone."

"No." My voice shook. "No, that can't be true. My wife and daughter…Bella and Lily."

"You wife and daughter, Mr. Cullen, don't exist. They were a vision gifted to you by the bell."

"NO!" I howled. "No, they were real! They were real and the house in Brooklyn was real and our families were real."

"Can you see them right now, sir? Can you touch them?"

I shut my eyes and squeezed them tight. "I saw them…I see them behind my eyelids. I can still feel their warmth."

"But they're not in front of you right now, sir, are they? Weren't you…" he said hesitantly, "the one who said ' _I believe in what I can actually see for myself and touch for myself?_ '"

"But I did see them and touch them!" I growled, reopening my eyes and scowling at George.

"You saw them and touched them in a vision, sir. They're not real," he repeated. "But look around you!" he smiled. "Look at all the lovely things you own, sir. Your penthouse and all the possessions within. A garage with more than one sleek sportscar parked within it."

"Those things aren't real!"

"Yet, you can see them and touch them very well, can't you, sir?"

I remained silent.

"I believe I shared a thought with you, sir, before the lights went out: Sometimes, things are real even if they can neither be seen nor touched – or rather, I should say, they _can_ be real if we strive toward them. And here's another part to that thought which I wasn't able to share because you were in such a rush to get back to work before: Not everything we can touch and see is real, at least not in the true sense of the word." He patted his heart in illustration.

"Fine," I said brokenly. "Fine, George; you were completely right and I was completely wrong. I was a huge asshole. I fully admit and acknowledge it. If it was a lesson you and your _management_ ," I sneered, "wanted to teach me, it's been taught in spades. Now please, please allow me to return-"

"But, sir, it simply doesn't work that way," George said apologetically once again. "You cannot be returned to a vision permanently."

I fisted my hair in both hands. "But you don't understand George. My wife and daughter are probably frightened as hell, wondering what the hell happened to me."

"Sir…" George whispered. He swallowed, and his bottom lip quivered. "Sir, your wife and your daughter aren't there…in that living room in Brooklyn…celebrating around a cluttered Christmas tree in a boxy living room and surrounded by family. Don't worry, sir; they aren't frightened. They don't miss you, if it makes you feel any better. They're not real," he breathed.

"NO!" I shouted. Strange sounds escaped as I tore apart the living room, still searching, refusing to-

My eyes landed on my cell phone, which had fallen to the floor before. When I picked it up, my first instinct was to text Bella…or would she be Isabella- worse yet, _Counselor Swan_ to me in this present? Counselor Swan hated the sight of me. What the hell would I say to her? How would I convince her we belonged together? Then, I recalled the last text exchange I'd shared with Alice before the lights went out.

I tapped her name…but the text exchange wasn't there.

All the while, George watched me from the intercom screen.

"There's no text exchange, sir, between you and your sister, because that wasn't real, either."

I ignored him and opened up a new text with Alice:

 **Merry Christmas, little sis. Where are you?**

It took a couple of minutes for the bubbles indicating a reply was forthcoming to appear.

 **Hey, Edward. Merry Christmas. Where would I be? Good to hear from you. And lol on the 'little sis' moniker. Sounds strange from you. Anyway, it's like two in the morning here, and I have to work tomorrow. Christmas Day, yes, but these are the sacrifices we make for success, right? I'm sure you'll be in your office tomorrow as well. I'll text you again when I get a chance.**

My heart constricted painfully.

 **It's not two in the morning, Al. It's 8 pm, same time in Brooklyn as it is here. Are Bella and Lily with you? And what about Jasper? Is he with you too?**

 **Who the hell are Bella, Lily, and Jasper? And what would they be doing in London with me? What's going on?**

 **You know who they are, Alice!** I insisted stupidly. **Please tell me you're with them in Brooklyn – in Bella's and my home in Brooklyn.**

 **Are you drunk or high, Edward? Man, that champagne they serve you at your Firm's Christmas parties must be potent tonight. But lol again on that 'home in Brooklyn' nonsense. As if you'd be caught living in Brooklyn rather than in your-**

I dropped the phone and didn't bother reading the rest. Instead, I fell to my knees and hung my head.

"There has to be a way to be with them again," I said brokenly.

"But there is, sir."

I jumped back up and stared at the screen.

"You have to _earn them,_ sir. You have to earn that vision, that life in Brooklyn with the daily struggles while you're surrounded by your family and bathed in love. There are no shortcuts to that life, to those _real_ things which can neither be touched nor seen but must be _strived_ toward."

I raked a hand through my hair. "I'd have no idea where to begin. _How_ do I earn her love?"

"That's something only you can answer, sir."

For one, long moment, I knelt there on the cold, marble floors, vacillating between the biggest heartbreak of my life...and growing fury.

"It's not fair," I muttered. "There has to be a way. There has-"

My eyes landed on the box from which I'd extracted the silver bell. It lay on its side on the floor by the door. Bits of crumpled up brown paper littered the space around it. I squinted my eyes because…in between the brown paper…on its side…

"Another bell," I gasped quietly.

"What?" George exclaimed from the intercom.

Still on my knees, I rushed toward it.

"Mr. Cullen, sir, no. Don't touch that bell. A second bell is never a good thing, sir."

When I reached the bell, I dropped my head closer and leaned in closer to examine it. This bell wasn't silver. It was copper, a dark copper almost black in color.

"What are you doing, Mr. Cullen?" George asked, unable to see me.

"It's copper," I murmured, more to myself than to him.

Nonetheless, George released an audible hitch of breath. "No, Mr. Cullen! Darn it, Tim! Why'd you deliver two bells, and a _copper_ one at that?"

"I didn't know there were two bells!" Another voice replied. "I just delivered what you-"

"Go up there and get that other bell back!" George instructed the boy. Then, he addressed me. "Mr. Cullen, please, _please_ listen to me. Nothing good will come of you ringing that copper bell. Copper bells show you…Little Tim is on his way up right now, sir, to retrieve that bell. Don't touch it! Mr. Cullen? Mr. Cullen?"

I reached for the bell and rang it.

* * *

 **A/N: Thoughts?**

 **I'll try to get another update out later today, but I have to go finish my shopping now! Gah!**

 **Twitter: PattyRosa817**

 **Facebook: Stories by PattyRose**

" **See" you soon – hopefully!**


	12. Chapter 12

**A/N: Thanks so much for all your wonderful thoughts!**

 **Merry Christmas Eve!**

 **So, after this chapter, we have one more chapter and the epi. :)**

 **Most characters belong to S. Meyer. Some belong to Capra, Dickens, and a guy by the name of Barenbaum. The rest belong to me. All mistakes are also mine.**

* * *

 **OCE Chapter 12**

When the lights flickered…flickered…and went dark, a grin spread across my face. Soon, I'd be with my wife and daughter. I closed my eyes, overwhelmed by expectation.

"Bella; Lily," I murmured, "I'm coming home."

When the lights came back on, they illuminated the large room; they made the snow falling outside the windows glow like fairy dust; they brought the magnificent view into sharp focus.

"What…the…?"

Chest heaving, I glared accusingly at the city view I once loved.

"Why am I still in the penthouse, and why did I only switch _rooms_?" I looked down at the corroded, copper bell in my hand. "What kind of useless bell is this?"

My bedroom appeared as it always did – everything orderly, and in place. From where I stood in the room's center, I could see into the large, walk-in closet, where rows and rows of neatly arranged clothing lined the walls…dresses hung from hangers, high-heeled shoes took up entire shelves, designer purses and bags took up an entire unit.

Sweeping my gaze around the bedroom once again, I now noticed things I missed in my initial perusal. The bed was covered in a scarlet, silky covering. A black marble jewelry armoire I'd never seen before rested beside the black dresser with what appeared to be a diamond necklace spilling out of a half-shut drawer…a pair of black, lace underwear were strewn over the plush, white carpet.

"Bella," I exhaled in relief. "Thank God." Reaching for the bell's clapper, I carefully wrapped my fist around it and set it slowly over the dresser. Then, I went searching for my wife and daughter.

"Bella?"

No answer.

A sliver of apprehension crawled up my spine, but I forced it back as my feet moved forward and out of the bedroom, toward the living room from where a series of voices carried in the air. One of the voices was now as familiar to me as was my own voice. My shoulders loosened. Pure, unadulterated relief flooded my entire system. It _was_ her.

"Bella, thank God you're here." I smiled as I strode toward the voices; that is, until something else hit me: there were no giggles accompanying _any_ of the voices.

Fear wound itself like a rope around my heart. "Lily?"

No answer.

I rushed forward, all the while knowing my four-year-old daughter, who adored me, who always looked for me, who left behind dogs, cousins, aunts and uncles to come to me, would've answered.

"Lily!"

As I rounded the living room, the voices grew louder and…I froze in my tracks.

A beautiful face looked out into the living room from the large-screen TV which hung over the marble mantle. She wore the same dress she wore earlier, back in Brooklyn; the red, velvet dress which fell to just above her knees and the tall, black boots which ended just below her knees, leaving a sliver of kneecap exposed.

"Bella?"

"Welcome back to _New York One_! I'm your host for the evening, Buddy Elfman!"

"What the…?"

"And on Christmas Eve," Buddy Elfman continued, exactly as he had a few hours earlier, wearing the same goofy grin, the same green suit, and with his head of red hair as wild as ever, "when our thoughts turn to family, happiness, and goodwill toward our fellow man, we're fortunate to have as our guests a couple who embody all these aspects of the holiday season."

It was our TV interview, the one to promote the Christmas Day Fundraiser which Bella and I held every year. The studio's camera panned outward, and with a long hitch of breath, my heart stuttered and came to a complete stop.

"Jacob and Isabella Black! Welcome!"

"No," I choked. "Please, no."

Squeezed in next to Bella on the studio's cheap couch was a man I vaguely recognized, though, in my bewildered state, I couldn't remember from where. Bella turned away from Jacob Black and offered Buddy a friendly smile.

"Hi, Buddy. Thank you. We're honored to be your guests today."

Jacob Black cleared his throat and grinned. "Yes, we're honored. Thank you, Buddy." Then… Jacob Black proceeded to draw in a deep breath before laying his large hand on top of my wife's kneecap, stroking her bare sliver of skin back and forth.

"I'll fucking kill him," I hissed.

And recalling how she'd reacted a few hours earlier when I- or rather when Brooklyn Edward did the same thing, I dreaded what came next: watching Bella weave her hand through this asshole's hand.

But…in the next moment, Bella's nostrils flared and her lips formed a tight line as she quickly reached down and lifted the asshole's hand off her leg. Her mouth moved around words I couldn't hear, but which were whispered in that furious manner of hers I easily recognized.

In contrast, Jacob's reply was nowhere near as silent.

"So what?" he spat. "I'm your husband."

"This isn't the time or the place, Jacob," Bella hissed in return.

"When the hell is the time or place? You never let me touch you anymore."

"Jesus, Jacob," Bella whispered furiously. "We're here for the fundraiser not to air our dirty laundry."

Jacob scowled and rolled his eyes. "Goddamn fundraisers. They're all you care about."

Buddy cleared his throat.

"I…uh…I apologize, Buddy," Bella said, her caramel cheeks flaming.

"Yes, I apologize as well," Jacob grumbled. "I'm a bit nervous, and I was hoping my wife would help me relax, but as usual, she's too involved in her projects to give a damn about her husband."

Bella shut her eyes. "Jacob, stop."

Buddy chuckled nervously and tried to wave off the incident. "Oh, it's okay! I'm sure our viewers are familiar with these type of…uh, marital relations." He clapped his hands together. "Let's move on!"

"Yes, please; let's." Bella managed a faint smile, while Jacob glowered at a spot past Buddy's shoulder.

"You stupid prick," I said through clenched teeth. "You just embarrassed the hell out of her. What kind of man are you?"

"Why don't we discuss the reason you're both joining us tonight, other than to show us how…happily married you are to one other?" Buddy smiled at them and then at the TV, while Bella shot him an incredulous look.

"Thanks, Buddy. Well, my husband and I are here tonight to promote our fifth annual Christmas Day fundraiser, the _'Let's Find Something in Life to Give Us Purpose'_ fair, which will be held tomorrow in Flushing, Queens, where I live."

I shut my eyes as each and every one of her words hit me like a ton of bricks. "'Something in Life to Give Us…? And Flushing, _Queens_? What about our home, Bella? Our beautiful home in Brooklyn? Jesus, baby. What happened?"

Nevertheless, when I reopened my eyes, Buddy was jumping up and down excitedly on his stool, just as he had when _I_ explained our fundraiser to him a few hours earlier…when my Lily's excited shrieks had matched his.

' _Look at him; he's so excited!'_ she'd squealed in her sweet, little voice.

"Where's Lily, Bella?" I breathed. "Where's our Lily?"

"I'm so excited! Tell us more!" Buddy said, exactly as he'd said earlier.

Bella laughed shakily, and I could see in her beautiful face how hard she was trying to shake off the incident with the asshole.

"Well, the 'Let's Find Something in Life to Give Us Purpose Day' fair is…my baby; it's literally what gives my life purpose."

"No, Bella, no. _Our_ family gives us purpose; it gives us the will for everything else. Where's Lily, Bella?" I asked again as if she could hear me. " _She's_ our baby."

"I started it on Christmas," Bella continued, "five years ago when…" she swallowed, "something happened."

Buddy leaned in closer. "What happened, Isabella? Care to share? Enquiring minds want to know."

"Uhm…sure," she shrugged. "My husband, Jacob, along with a handful of other families, was evicted from his apartment by a couple of greedy landlords and by their…heartless attorney."

"I think I'm going to be sick." I wrapped one arm around my stomach and clamped the other hand over my mouth.

"So, it wasn't really much of a magical Christmas," Buddy pointed out, his rounded gaze on the TV camera instead of on Bella.

"No. It wasn't a magical night at all," Bella said. "Jacob was the President of the Building's Tenants' Association, and with nowhere to go, he was in danger of ending up on the streets. I…felt sorry for him, and I invited him to stay on the couch in my small apartment."

"Oh, fuck no," I mouthed.

"And you lived happily ever after?" Buddy grinned eagerly.

"No," Bella smiled sadly. "Not exactly."

When Jacob snorted, Bella's mouth tightened. "One thing led to another…but can we just get back to the subject at hand?" she pleaded.

"I suppose," Buddy sighed.

"Afterward, I decided to dedicate my life to helping those people in danger of being made homeless by unscrupulous landlords and their lawyers," she said. "Our foundation, the " _Christmas Isn't Always Magical_ ' Foundation-"

"Oh, for the love of-" I choked. "It _is_ magical, Bella; it is. _You_ taught me that."

"-provides legal, financial and housing assistance to those in need, specifically those in danger of becoming homeless."

Buddy shook his head, one hand over his mouth. "Amazing…just simply amazing." He dropped his hand and smiled. "And, I assume the foundation is a success?"

"Of course it is," I growled. "Not only is she the smartest woman around, but she's also so full of compassion that she makes everyone around her understand the true meaning of compassion!"

"No; it's not much of a success," Bella said, her bottom lip quivering. "I mean, we try, but we've just never been able to completely get it off the ground."

Buddy turned his attention to Jacob. "You're so quiet, Jacob."

On screen, Jacob shrugged. "My wife prefers to do all the talking. I'm relegated to nothing more than a silent partner."

"That's because you've never taken any real interest, Jacob," Bella spat.

"Never taken interest?" I shouted incredulously. "How can you possibly not take an interest when she's so passionate about it all, you dumbass!"

"Because from the very beginning," Jacob hissed at Bella in return, "the damn foundation has consumed all of your attention and focus, _and_ the little bit of money we have."

"Whatever little money we have is thanks to me," Bella said. " _You_ haven't worked a day in your life since we got married."

"You're a fucking freeloader to top it off?" I said, fisting my hair in both hands.

"I'm an _artist_ not a nonprofit worker! But sure, air _that_ bit of laundry in public," Jacob retorted. "I suppose I shouldn't mention the fact that we still live in your tiny, one-bedroom apartment because thanks to your foundation, we can't afford anything else. Or the fact that we haven't started a family because-"

"Because I won't bring a child into this shitty world," Bella said heatedly, "or into a marriage where both participants do nothing more than argue!"

"Excuses!" Jacob said.

"So, Lily…Lily doesn't exist." My voice came out strangled, every breath I now took an excruciating effort.

I turned around to return to the bedroom and to the bell, but then Buddy asked something which made me stop.

"Tell me something, Jacob," Buddy interrupted. Again, his gaze turned to the TV camera, and I could've sworn he was looking directly at me. "And I want to hear this from you, not from your wife, whom we've already established is amazing. What. _exactly_. precipitated this all of this?"

"Buddy, I'd really rather return the interview's focus to-" Bella begged.

"A few years ago," Jacob interrupted, "my wife, Bella, and Edward Cullen, attorney-at-law, were attorneys on opposite sides of the legal battle surrounding the apartment building at 1225 Milagro Street, in New York City."

"Oh, shit," I breathed.

Bella stood up fast, her hands on her hips. "Now, why the hell was that necessary, Jacob? Why would you call him out by name?"

Jacob spoke over her and to Buddy. "She didn't want to name him because she had a thing for him."

"No, I didn't!"

"She did. She'd never admit it, not even to herself, but she did. All the moaning and complaining she did about him, ' _He's a damn Scrooge_ , _a Grinch_ ,'" Jacob said, mimicking Bella's voice. " _'He had the nerve to ask me out as if I'd ever date someone like him.'_ " He smirked and shook his head. "It was all to save face. She would've dated him in a minute had he played his cards right," Jacob snickered.

"Played my cards right, asshole?" I seethed. "You mean had I _lied_ to her?"

"The way _you_ did?" Buddy grinned.

Jacob shrugged. "I said what she wanted to hear. ' _Let's help those less fortunate_ ,'" he said, mimicking my wife again.

"So...all this time…it was a lie?" Bella asked.

Again, Jacob shrugged. "Blame Counselor Edward Cullen. It was his actions which brought us together." When he reached for her arm, she shook him off, and he laughed. "Had he not forced you to deliver that eviction notice on that Christmas Eve all those years ago, you and I wouldn't have gotten to talking and spent the night together."

"I'm definitely going to be sick," I said, swallowing back bile.

"Because you gave me a sob story!" Bella said to Jacob.

"Like I said, thank Counselor Cullen," he said, still talking over her, "for that at least."

I doubled over and dry-heaved.

"That's such a sweet story!" Buddy said, clapping furiously.

"Are you insane?" Bella yelled at him.

"And, I'm afraid we're out of time!"

"Oh, no! Please, no!" Bella pleaded. "Buddy, I apologize! Please, may we have some more time to focus on the nonprofit? It's not doing well, and we need the pub-"

"Nope! That's all the time we have for tonight!" Buddy turned to the screen and stood, moving toward the camera, and dropping his head so that it completely filled the screen.

"Merry Christmas everyone! And remember," he said, his gaze almost appearing to zoom in on me, "sometimes, we can turn our dreams into reality _if_ we strive toward them! But if we don't work toward them…if we make no attempt to earn our future…"

The show cut to commercial.

For what felt like an eternity, I stood in front of the large-screen, seeing nothing as a dark void consumed me from the inside out.

"Bella," I breathed, "if not with these bells, _how_ do I return to you and Lil-"

"Who the hell is Bella?"

I spun around so fast I almost lost my footing. The woman walking toward me from the bedroom – a tall, blond woman dressed in a silky red nightgown which matched the bedspread – was most definitely not my wife.

"And who's this Lily you keep calling for as well?" The woman stopped and chuckled. "Darling, if you're going to have affairs, at least try to be discreet about them, for God's sake."

I blinked successively, my mind in a total uproar.

"Kate? Kate Potter? What the hell are you doing here?"

"Darling, I ask myself that very same question on a daily basis." She resumed her slow strut, walking to the floor-to-ceiling windows and gazing out at the snowy park across the street. "That Christmas night when you were made partner, you drank too much, I drank too much. You had someone else on your mind… and I had your money on mine." She chuckled, but when she took me in over her shoulder, her amusement faded. "And now…here we were: Mr. and Mrs. Edward Fucking Cullen."

"No." I shook my head. "No."

Kate Potter rolled her eyes and smirked. "Whatever, Edward. You lead your life, I lead mine, and in between, we go to these company Christmas parties every year and play the game so that you can remain on Daddy's good side, and I can buy whatever I want."

"I don't understand. If we're this miserable with one another, why don't we just div-?"

"Think twice before you bring up divorce yet again, Eddie." She grinned wickedly. "I love this damn penthouse, I love those sleek cars, and most of all, I adore your huge bank account. So, think twice."

"Money? You stay with me for…money?"

"There are only two ways you'll ever be rid of me," she continued. "Death or by giving up half of all you own. _I'm_ sure as hell not giving anything up, and as you've always liked to say, ' _The law is the law!_ '" She smiled and slowly walked toward me. "So if you want to go stick your dick in Bella or Stella or whoever the fuck you were calling for, that's fine by me, but think twice about divorce. Now, go get dressed. Daddy and Uncle Marcus will be waiting for us to stand in the greeting line at the company holiday party. Wear the Versace tux. It makes you look hot, and it makes everyone envy _me_."

I turned and made my way back toward the bedroom, to where I'd left the copper bell. As I reached for it, I heard Kate behind me.

"Matter of fact, Eddie…before you get dressed, why don't you give me a good fu-"

I rang that bell so hard and fast my teeth rattled.

OOOOO

When the lights came back on in my apartment, someone was ringing the doorbell with the same urgency with which I'd just rung the copper bell in my hand. Then, hard banging joined the anxious ringing.

"Mr. Cullen! Mr. Cullen, please open the door!"

"I'm coming! I'm coming!" I called out.

Nevertheless, I didn't move right away.

I'd lived through three realities that night:

My true reality, where I was a young, rich, handsome, and successful attorney – and nothing else.

My reality with my wife and daughter, where we didn't have too much in the way of material comforts, but we were billionaires in every other way.

And the latest reality through which I'd lived – where I was, for all intents and purposes, a younger version of Uncle Harry.

Having no idea what version of my life awaited me on the other side of that door, while the ringing and banging continued, I wrapped my hand around the copper bell's clapper, and with a deep breath, made my way to the door.

"I swear if there's an asshole alternate husband or a money-hungry alternate wife on the other side of this door I'm going to be really mad!"

When I opened the door, George the Concierge and Little Tim the Teenaged Delivery Boy stood wide-eyed on the other side.

George reached out and snatched the bell out of my hands.

"No, no, no!"

I squeezed my eyes shut, cringing at the expected ringing, dreading whatever would follow. How much more crap could one man take in one night?

But, when I reopened my eyes, George and Little Tim were still standing at the other side of the door.

"Is it safe?"

"Don't worry, Mr. Cullen," George chuckled. "These bells only work in the hands of those for whom they're intended. Besides, I _did_ warn you not to ring it; my management can have a sick sense of humor sometimes.

"Yeah. So, I saw," I scowled.

George passed the bell over to Little Tim. "Go get rid of this," he instructed. "And next time, be careful with what you deliver," he scolded.

"How was I supposed to know there were two bells in there?" Tim grumbled just like a teenager as he stepped into the elevator. When the doors closed, George returned his attention to me.

"Eventful evening you've had, Mr. Cullen."

I raked a hand through my hair. "Yes, it's definitely been that. And now, I just want to get back to my wife and daughter, so if you'll please-"

George sighed. "Mr. Cullen, haven't you learned? There's no other bell. There's no shortcut, no easy way there. Those things that are truly worth having can't be bought and can't be rushed. You make your own future, Mr. Cullen, through the present you lead."

I stared long and hard at George. When the elevator arrived, I bypassed him and that bell from hell and stepped into the elevator.

George pivoted around. "Mr. Cullen, sir," he said, sounding somewhat exasperated, "where are you going now?"

"George, I was going to say, if you'll please _excuse me_ ," I grinned, "I have a future to earn."

As the elevator doors closed, I could hear George's hearty chuckles.

* * *

 **A/N: Thoughts?**

 **Merry Christmas, loves. Enjoy your holidays.**

 **Twitter: PattyRosa817**

 **Facebook: Stories by PattyRose**

 **A/N: Thoughts?**

 **Merry Christmas, my loves. :)**

 **Twitter: PattyRosa817**

 **Facebook: Stories by PattyRose**


	13. Chapter 13

**A/N: Thank you all so much for your wonderful thoughts.**

 **Hope everyone is enjoying their holidays.**

 **We're almost done. Epilogue to follow. :)**

 **Most characters belong to S. Meyer. Some belong to Capra, Dickens, and a guy called Barenbaum. The rest belong to me. All mistakes are mine.**

* * *

 **OCE – Chapter 13**

Historically, the odds of celebrating a White Christmas in the northeast decreases the further one travels down the Atlantic seaboard. I read somewhere that the odds drop from around forty-percent if you're standing at Boston's Freedom Trail to a paltry fifteen-percent if you're strolling through Manhattan's Central Park.

Nevertheless, _that_ particular Christmas Eve, a thick blanket of crystallized, frozen precipitation cloaked New York City and turned it into a veritable snow globe from end to end. From the Bronx Zoo to the Staten Island Zoo, from Coney Island Park to Central Park, the dark, wintry skies took on an arc-shaped, smoky-golden glow, and everything and everywhere in between sparkled with the strange, luminescence substance. A few hours earlier, I would've called the entire scene nothing more than a troublesome weather anomaly that was going to wreak havoc come morning.

But now…now I knew better.

Or perhaps, as I rushed down Milagro Street with purpose, slipping and sliding along the way in loafers not meant for snow, I simply saw it better. The entire picture reminded me of streets straight out of a Christmas book Lily pretend-read me as we sat by the tree a few short hours…or an entire lifetime earlier.

It was that last mental image of my daughter – dark curls bouncing with her giggles while green eyes sparkled with purely innocent joy – that brought me up short.

In my haste, I'd left my penthouse without a coat, hat, or scarf, yet for the past hour or so I'd been too nervous, too excited, and too busy to feel the evening's cold bite more than transiently. But now…though I understood that there was no short cut to Lily, no quick and easy way back to her, knowing that I'd have to earn the right to gaze into those green eyes framed within a sweet caramel face… _that_ made me shiver.

Because what if I couldn't accomplish it? What if I couldn't find a way to earn Bella's love? What if, in Counselor Swan's eyes, I'd already proven myself an irredeemable Grinch? A Scrooge?

While these fears and doubts plagued my mind, the caramel-cheeked woman herself happened to cross the street just a few short feet in front of me. She looked like a Christmas fairy in her familiar ivory wool coat and the ivory knit hat and scarf she still owned back in Brooklyn; or rather, forward a few years in Brooklyn.

Bella…Isabella…Counselor Swan stopped in front of 1225 Milagro Street and craned her neck upward. She bit her lip, her expression a heavy mixture of guilt and apprehension as she took in the old building as if _she'd_ somehow failed everyone inside.

"Jesus, Baby," I murmured to myself, "how could I have asked you to do something that brought that look to your face? How could anyone who put that look on your face ever deserve you?"

My remorseful musings were cut short when Bella drew in a deep breath, stuck her hands in her pockets, and with her head hung dejectedly, headed for the building's vestibule.

"Bella!"

Startled, she stopped and turned around, pulling her hands out of her pockets and defensively fisting them at her sides. When she realized it wasn't a mugger but me who called her name, her fists relaxed, but a frown of confusion marred the smooth sliver of skin exposed between her brows and forehead. In the fraction of a second before her frown deepened into a scowl, I thought I heard a quiet hitch of breath; I thought I saw her dark eyes sparkle with a momentary thrill.

But in the next moment, the scowl was definitely all that was there.

"What the hell are _you_ doing here? Did you come to make sure I delivered your _Christmas present_ to the tenants? Don't worry; I'm on my way to ruin their lives at you and your clients' behest right now."

With that, she turned once again and strode fiercely toward the building.

"No! No, wait!"

"Wait for what?" she spat as she turned toward me once more.

I cleared my throat. "Uh…how are you, Bella?"

Her furious expression took on a note of incredulity.

"Seriously?" she bit out. "You've got the nerve to ask me that?"

"I-"

"Actually _, I'm_ fine. No matter what, _I_ have an apartment to return to after this. Unfortunately, I have to go inform five families – fourteen individuals and five pets – on Christmas Eve, mind you, that _they_ won't have their apartments for long because _you_ and your asshole clients want them out of their homes in thirty days."

"Yeah, uh…" I raked a hand through my snow-dampened hair, shivering in earnest now, "Bella, can we go have a cup of coffee or something?"

For one, long moment, she simply stared mutely. "Are you kidding me here?"

"No, I'm actually not. I-"

"I already told you no, didn't I?"

"Yes, but that was then. I was hoping-"

"That was then? That was four hours ago. What makes you think I'd change my mind in four hours?"

"Believe it or not, a lot can change in four hours."

Again, she just stared at me.

"Bella, I'm sorry." Full of nervous energy, I dug my hands in my pockets and shook my head. "I'm not explaining myself clearly."

"No, you definitely aren't, but I guess even Princeton-educated lawyers," she scoffed, lifting her chin high in the air, "can have an off night now and again. "Now, if you'll excuse me." Once more, she made to turn on her boots, but this time, I reached for her hand.

When I weaved our fingers together, a flash of heat rushed up my spine, warming every extremity despite the falling snow, and annihilating every ounce of nerves. Going by the small gasp which escaped her, I was sure Bella felt it too.

Unfortunately, when she rounded on me, her dark eyes blazed as she shook me off.

"Are you crazy? How dare you touch me? Who the hell do you think you are, Edward Cullen?"

 _I'm your husband_ , I almost replied. But then I remembered…I wasn't; not really – not yet. So instead, I took a step back and put my palms up between us.

"I'm sorry. I'm sorry. That was…wrong of me. Bella, may we please start over?"

But Bella had taken a sharp turn at angry and was now in Lividville.

"And that's another thing," she said, taking an incensed step forward, hands on her hips. "Who the hell gave you permission to call me 'Bella'? Only my friends and family call me 'Bella.' To you, I'm _Isabella_. As a matter of fact, no, I'm not even that to you. To you, I'm _Counselor Swan_."

I swallowed against the lump in my throat and fought against the tightening in my chest. I should've known my wife wouldn't make this easy; that she'd call me out on all my bullshit. It was one of the many things I'd fallen in love with about her. But my entire future… _our_ future hinged on my getting this right.

Unfortunately, so far, I was failing miserably.

"All right, _Counselor Swan_ ," I stressed. "May we please start over?"

"Start what exactly over?" she asked impatiently.

"Bell- Counselor Swan," I corrected myself. And then, I just laid it all out. "I…I've been a fool, for weeks now. I felt something for you from the very beginning, from the very moment you walked into that courtroom. Yet, instead of acknowledging it to you or even to myself beyond internal musings on how gorgeous you are, I behaved like an ass. I have a lot to apologize for," I nodded, "I know, but I want to begin with that: with admitting that I was a coward for not letting you know how much I admired you in that courtroom…and how attracted I am to you – much more than just physically."

For about half a minute, Bella said nothing. She couldn't, what with her mouth hanging open. While she stared at me, I took in her labored breaths, the way her shoulders rose and fell, rose and fell. When she finally managed to close her mouth, swallow, and open it again, the words she spoke were clear and succinct.

"I don't really care one way or the other whether you admire me or not. Good night."

She turned again, and had I not possessed insider information, I may not have recognized the slight quiver in her voice, and I may have actually believed her, as I'd believed her earlier.

But now, I risked a step forward. "Yes, you do care, Counselor, because you're attracted to me too."

When she pivoted, her dark eyes grew wide, voice rising in pitch and volume. "Have you lost your mind tonight, Edward? Is that what's going on here?"

I noted how she hadn't actually denied my claim.

"No. No, miraculously, I actually didn't lose my mind tonight. And what's going on here is that my head is now on straighter than it's ever been." In spite of her look of bewilderment, I couldn't help smiling. "And I don't blame you for refusing to admit your attraction to me. God knows I don't deserve it, not with the way I've been acting around you."

Bella took another step forward and lifted a hand in the shrinking space between us. "Edward, let me stop you right now because even if…" she swallowed, "even if I held a modicum of attraction toward you, and I'm not saying I do," she qualified, "do you really think I'd act on it, or that I'd agree to be your Christmas Eve screw?"

"I already told you that day, that I've _never_ wanted you to be my Christmas Eve screw." My reply was admittedly tinged with a degree of indignation.

"That day?" She quirked an eyebrow so high it disappeared under her hat. "You mean that day, four hours ago?"

"Yes, yes," I sighed. "That's what I meant; that day four hours ago."

When I took another step, narrowing the space between us to a handful of inches, her head craned upward, holding my gaze defiantly.

"Bell- Counselor Swan- damn it," I hissed. "May I at least call you Isabella?"

She hesitated for a moment, but then she offered me a tight nod.

"Isabella, what I'm trying to tell you is that I've spent the past few hours conducting some serious inner reflection." Once again, I nervously raked a hand through my hair. "In the past few hours, I've learned things about myself and about others, and I've come to the conclusion that I've been living a selfish, self-involved existence, valuing those things which hold no value above those things…those _people_ whom I should value above all. Bella…I'm not the man I was before."

"You're not the man you were four hours ago," she restated dryly.

"Yes. I mean, no. No, I'm not the man I was four hours ago."

"Boy, a lot seems to have transpired for you in the past four hours."

I snorted. "You have no idea."

She scrutinized me long and hard, and then she sighed. "I have no damn clue what that means, or for that matter, what the hell is going on here."

When I took another step forward, I closed all the distance between us so that my chest brushed against her coat, and I realized that for all her grit, Bella was shaking too.

"What's going on, Isabella, is that I've changed," I smiled ruefully, "and I'm asking you for an opportunity to show you just how much, and to show you that you and I could be really great together – and before you say no," I added hastily when she opened her mouth, "may I please…be allowed to hold your hand for one more moment?"

" _What?_ " she breathed. "Edward, this is way too creep-"

"Just for one moment, Bella, please. Afterward, if you never want to see me again," I swallowed, "I'll respect your decision. Please," I breathed.

For what felt like an eternity, she took me in silently, while her beautiful eyes clouded over with confusion and indecision. And all the while, I held my breath, until finally, cautiously, Bella nodded. Then, just as slowly, while ensuring she had every opportunity to change her mind and stop me, I reached for her hand.

We sighed together, warm breath against warm breath as heat enveloped us like a protective cloak against the bitter cold and heavy snow. Her frame stopped shivering, and so did mine.

"You see?" I whispered, offering her a careful smile.

"How is that even possible?" she breathed in wonder.

"It's because you and I…we soothe one another, Bella. Your touch calms me, warms me…completes me. And…I get the feeling my touch does the same for-"

Bella pulled away.

"Never mind the fact that you're still calling me _Bella_ , I can't seem to stop myself from calling you _Edward,_ so I suppose I should stop bitching about that."

I grinned triumphantly.

"I should stop complaining about _that_ ," she clarified. "But Edward, _this_? This is…" she cradled her head between her hands, "this is crazy. It's crazy and totally out of left field. Whatever we call one another, whatever exactly you're asking me for…" she shook her head, "you and I are just way too different. It would never work."

Her words sliced through my chest like a knife, even more so as I recognized the words as the same ones I'd spoken to George about Bella and me just a short while earlier, a short while that felt like ages ago, back when I'd been an idiot who had no idea what _real_ really meant.

And despite her decree, Bella looked and sounded just as crestfallen. Nevertheless, she continued enumerating all the reasons why she and I didn't fit.

"You don't even know me, Edward," she murmured mournfully, dropping her head. "You certainly don't know me well enough to claim so many and such strong feelings about me. Go home, Edward," she said, turning away. "It's Christmas Eve, it's snowing, and the beauty of the night is messing with your head. You'll forget all about this come-"

"I won't forget it, Bella," I called out. "And I do. I mean…I do know you."

She stopped, yet she kept her back to me.

"I've been watching you for weeks in court, Bella. I know how intelligent you are, how dedicated, how strongly you fight for what you believe in, how vehemently you defend those who can't defend themselves, how loyal you are to those you care about."

Her shoulders rose and fell, rose and fell.

"I _do_ know you," I repeated. "I know your favorite color is red because it's bright and loud and it makes you think of life and love. I know your guilty pleasure is maple glazed bacon, and you indulge in it to your heart's content during the holidays but you stay religiously away from it for the rest of the year. I know your heart literally hurts to think of people without a home, especially during the holidays. I know you treasure friends and family above everything else, and I know…I know your favorite flower is a Christmas Lily," – my voice quivered audibly on our unborn daughter's name – "and that you keep one in a vase year-round because it's a daily reminder of the year's possibilities."

Slowly, Bella turned around, her dark eyes wide and so overwhelmed.

"I don't remember ever mentioning any of those last few facts in court."

"I read between the lines," I smiled.

"That's some sort of reading. I guess those Princeton degrees _are_ superior."

"They're not," I said softly, shaking my head. "You're just…fascinating to me."

She studied me from a few feet away, and then slowly, hesitantly, Bella made her way closer, boots shuffling through thick snow. She stopped about a foot from me and offered me a careful smile.

"Christmas lilies _are_ my favorite flower."

"I know," I breathed. "They're mine too."

Bella quirked an eyebrow. "I would've never thought them your favorite flower. Honestly, I would've never imagined you even had a favorite flower."

"I know you wouldn't have," I whispered, "and that's entirely my fault. But now you know I have a favorite flower, and it happens to be Lily, just like yours. And I happen to love Brooklyn, and roast pork, and shelling my own pecans, and variations on the color gray for walls and decor, and Christmas trees overflowing with decorations, and soft pima cotton polo shirts, the type sold in Banana Republic, and…I also believe that family and friends trump just about every other treasure in the world. So, you see," I grinned cautiously, "maybe we're not that different after all."

All the while, Bella searched my eyes. "I gotta say," she eventually said with a snort, "a lot of that was pretty random…but it was also pretty cool – especially that last part about family and friends," she whispered. "I would've never guessed any of that about you…but it's good to know." Biting her lip, she drew in a deep breath and lifting her gaze to the wintry sky as if beseeching it for answers. Gauzy snowflakes landed on her long, dark lashes, but she just blinked them away, lost in her thoughts.

Finally, she blinked rapidly, dispelling all the flakes, and she released the breath she'd been holding.

Her gaze returned to me. "Edward, I'm not saying no…"

My heart clenched agonizingly. "But you're not saying yes."

"I'm saying I have to think. I have to…" she swept her gaze to a spot past my shoulder, and I saw the action for what it was: a refusal to look at me as she spoke. "I have to try to compare what you're telling me to the man I've known for weeks. I mean…" Growling, she yanked off her hat and fisted her hair hard, "you're right; I _am_ attracted to you. But how do I reconcile that with everything else? How do I know this isn't just some sort of Christmas Eve whim of yours after all?"

"It's not a Christmas Eve whim; believe me, it's not," I whispered vehemently.

"If only there was a way I could know that for sure; some way, some sign that you really aren't the cold-hearted bastard I've thought you to be for all these months."

"You mean some sort of a…grand gesture?"

"A grand gesture?" She frowned and shrugged. "I don't know. Just…something."

And just like that, we were back to Square One.

"I have no idea what the Grand Gesture was," I murmured mostly to myself. "I never found out."

"What?"

"Nothing," I said, my voice weak and shaky. "Nothing. Bella, if you'll just-"

Before I could finish, Bella reached into her coat pocket and pulled out her cell phone, her lips pursing as she stared at it.

"Edward, give me a moment. It's the building's Tenant Association President. I told him I was on my way over to speak with him."

"You mean Jacob Black?" My jaw clenched.

"Yeah." She put a finger up between us. "Hold on for a minute."

"Bella, please don't fall in-"

"Jacob? I'm on my way up…" Bella trailed off, listening with growing intensity and agitation to whatever the asshole was saying. Her breath suddenly hitched, long and sharply.

"What?" she shrieked, eyes growing wider than they had all night. She lifted those large, dark, and stunned eyes to me. "He did what? Jacob, can you please repeat that?"

For a long, long while, we stood there, in the middle of the block and in front of 1225 Milagro Street while Bella clutched the phone close to her ear, listening, and gazed at me in pure astonishment.

"I have to go," she finally whispered. "No. No, Jake; I'm not coming up right now. I'll…" once more trailing off, Bella ended the call, staring at the phone in pure disbelief before she dropped it back into her coat pocket.

I swallowed through a desert-like throat, wondering what the asshole said to her that made her look at me with so much incredulity, and preparing to beg her not to go to him.

"Edward-"

"Bella, please just let me-"

" _Edward_ …Jacob told me…Jacob just told me he received a call from your lawyer?"

My brow furrowed. "Oh. Yeah. Yes; I suppose with your being their lawyer, he would want to tell you about that right away. But I-"

"Edward," she whimpered, "what did you _do_?"

I shrugged self-consciously. "I just…I did what had to be done, and I'm sorry, Bella," I said, "my first instinct was to make it possible for all the families to remain in their apartments, but when I spoke to my clients, they refused to sell me the building. They say they've already hired architects, contractors, and engineers for the reno, and they're of no mind to stop it. So, I…" I shrugged again, "well…"

"Edward…" Bella breathed, "you're giving each family a quarter of a million dollars."

"It's not enough; I know it's not enough," I acknowledged quickly. "These families, they're losing their homes. They've built memories in those apartments." I shook my head, nostrils flaring with emotion. "Whether they were memories gathered over years or …over just a few hours, every corner of those apartments probably holds so many different meanings. I…I know what it's like to be forced to leave a place like that before you're ready." I raked a hand through my hair. "And I know throwing money at them isn't the solution, but I hope it helps them _begin_ to rebuild. And I'm also trying to put together a last-minute fair tomorrow, gathering landlords, contractors, and engineers, all sort of people involved in real estate and shelter to see if we can help these families-"

Bella lunged. She threw her arms around me, winding them so tightly around my neck she almost cut off my air supply. But I quickly found I didn't really need air; at least, not as much as I needed her. So I slipped my arms around her waist and held her up and against me as tightly as she held me.

"Bella…" I grinned in relief, brushed my mouth against her soft hair.

"Edward, I can't believe it," she murmured. "I can't believe it. I can't believe it."

Over and over, she repeated the phrase while I reveled in the reality of having her in my arms again…or finally.

"If it was a grand gesture you were aiming for," she chuckled softly, "then you succeeded in spades."

And that was when my heart dropped to my feet, when my hold on her loosened, and when I gently brought her boots back to the soft, snowy ground. Because I couldn't lie to her the way Jacob did…or would. I couldn't pretend, not with her. I loved her, I respected her, and I cherished her too much to lie to her.

"Bella." Her name came out strangled while she gazed up at me in open wonder and…growing respect. "I…I have to be honest with you."

Her joyful smile widened.

"I didn't do what I did meaning for it to be my Grand Gesture – meaning for it to be what finally convinced you to give me a chance."

"Edward-"

"I did it because justice demanded it of me. I'm sorry," I shook my head miserably, "but impressing you wasn't my goal. I've wanted to impress you all night; of course, I have," I clarified, "but I thought I'd do so by explaining to you how much I've changed, and how much _you've_ always impressed me, _and_ -"

This time, when she lunged herself into my arms, she crushed her mouth to mine.

And God help me, for a few, wondrous seconds, I allowed her to bite and suck on my lips, I allowed myself the warmth and pleasure of her soft mouth on mine before gently gripping her coat and pulling her away.

"Bella-"

"Edward, you silly, strange man, "she chuckled. " _that's_ what makes this such a grand gesture! The fact that you didn't do it for me or to impress me. I know…" she searched my eyes, her grin widening, "I see it in your eyes that you didn't do it for me."

This time, I fisted my hair in both hands. "Bella, I don't understand."

"Edward," she said, her voice infused with so much joy it hurt my heart in the most wonderful, confusing way, "fifteen minutes ago, I was attracted to you, but I thought you were the biggest bastard since Scrooge himself. Ten minutes ago, I was attracted to you, but I thought you were insane. Two minutes ago, you proved yourself wonderful by the actions you've taken. But now…" she breathed in wonder.

"Now?" I prompted.

"Now, knowing you didn't just save those families from being homeless simply to impress me, as some convoluted, misplaced gesture meant to earn approval…it makes you a fucking Rockstar."

I reached for her scarf and pulled her toward me, dipping my mouth to hers and consuming her lips with the pent up passion of…four and a half hours.

"Your mouth is just as delicious as I remember," I murmured, resting my forehead against hers.

"I have no idea what that means," she laughed, "but that kiss was delicious."

Locked in her gaze, I grinned at her in undisguised awe and reverence, too caught up in so many overwhelming emotions to filter my thoughts.

" _That's_ how Brooklyn Edward won you over? Not with sweet words or promises…or even with a grand gesture, but by simply being himself – his true self?"

She chuckled heartily, her warm breath bathing me. "I'm not sure exactly what that means, and while it's a bit weird that you seem to be referring to yourself in the third person and calling yourself Brooklyn Edward, if you're Brooklyn Edward, and I'm the one who got won over here, then yeah, that's how Brooklyn Edward won me over; simply by being his true self."

Laughing, I kissed her softly, and for a long while.

"So," she said when she came up for air, "coffee?"

"Yes. Coffee, please."

"And afterward, I guess I'll return Jacob's call and tell him that Counselor Swan and Counselor Cullen will hash out specific details in the morning."

"Okay."

"But for now…maybe you'd like to take a subway ride to Brooklyn with me? That is if you don't have any other plans," she said sheepishly. "You said you're planning a fair, and I'd love to help if you'd allow me. But I have do have to go see my family on Christmas Eve."

"Bella, I would love to go back to Brooklyn with you to meet your family," I grinned. "And…I've got a phone call to return to my sister too, to wish her a proper Merry Christmas, and to talk to her about some things I've learned tonight."

She offered me one of those confused grins I remembered from back in Brooklyn, except there was no apprehension behind this one. Simply…joy. "All right," she chuckled.

Then, weaving our fingers together, we walked hand in hand toward the subway while sparkling snow fell all around us.

"Just out of curiosity," I asked, "how do you feel about children?"

"What?" she snorted, laughing somewhat nervously. "I mean, I like children, of course. My brother has two little boys and another one on the way."

"Sounds like he has a wonderful family," I grinned.

"He does. And yes, I'd like children…someday," she clarified with a raised brow.

"Me too," I breathed.

"Lily," she smiled softly.

I stopped us both, looking at her in bewilderment. "What?"

She jerked her chin toward something behind me, and I turned around.

"There's a Christmas lily in that window."

She was right. A pure, Christmas Lily was the focus at the storefront window of a flower shop, illuminated from above by a lone, recessed light.

"Beautiful," I sighed.

"It sure is," she agreed.

When I turned back around, I pulled her gently toward me and brushed my lips softly to hers.

"Thank you."

"For what?" she smiled.

"It turns out, it wasn't a Grand Gesture that brought us together; it was you."

Her brow furrowed, but she kept right on smiling. And for a while, we simply stood there, until a bell rang behind us, one of those storefront bells announcing the opening of a door.

Bella's eyes panned back to the store, and she chuckled.

"What is it that they say? 'Every time a bell rings, an angel gets his wings?'"

"Yeah," I smiled crookedly, "I think I've heard that somewhere. But…I think here in New York City, it's more like every time a bell rings, a doorman filling in for the doorman who's on vacation is going to get one kick-ass Christmas tip."

While she threw back her head and laughed and laughed, I watched her and drew in a deep breath, releasing it slowly.

"Thanks, George."

* * *

 **A/N: Thoughts?**

 **Twitter: PattyRosa817**

 **Facebook: Stories by PattyRose**

 **A few Christmas songs have kept me company as I write this story:**

 _ **Underneath the Tree**_ **by Kelly Clarkson**

 _ **Please Come Home for Christmas**_ **by Bon Jovi**

 _ **I'll Be Home for Christmas**_ **by Bing Crosby**

 **Epilogue coming up soon!**


	14. Epilogue

**A/N: Thanks so much for all your wonderful thoughts.**

 **Hitting 'Complete' on this one.**

 **Most characters belong to S. Meyer. Some belong to Capra, Dickens, and a guy called Barenbaum.**

 **All mistakes are mine.**

* * *

 **OCE - Epilogue**

 **Three Years Later**

When we pushed the door, it groaned and creaked, one of those creaks which just gets louder with every, single movement.

Bella chuckled as I shut the door. She tapped the snow off her boots on the old floor, then removed her ivory knit hat and shook it off.

"It sounds like a haunted house. Do we really want to see the rest?"

"This is a great, quality door," I said, grinning and giving the door a good knock so she could hear the thickness of the wood. "It just needs some oil and some sanding, and it'll be as good as new. And sure, let's check out the rest of it. After all, if it's haunted, there's something to be said about Christmas ghosts."

" _O_ -kay," Bella laughed.

I smiled in the semi-darkness, leading my wife by our intertwined hands. In every corner of the entry hall, dust motes danced like winter fairies. Already shortened by the season, in here, twilight was weakened all the more by its fight to filter in between the massively dirt-stained windows – like sand through a sieve. There were, however, plenty of windows, which once cleaned, would provide an unparalleled view of the Brooklyn Bridge and New York City's skyline right across it.

I sighed, smiling at the memory.

"What are you smiling about?" Bella asked, grinning up at me. "It's a mess!"

Chuckling, I brushed my lips to her forehead. "You haven't even seen the rest."

"Babe, look at the floors. I think they might be scuffed beyond repair. And look at the walls. That's wallpaper, Edward, and old wallpaper at that. And check out this layout; narrow hallways leading from one room to the next. It's…"

"Boxy?" I smirked.

"Yes," she chuckled. "That's exactly what it is. Boxy."

"Well, the realtor did warn us that the previous owners hadn't remodeled since about the 1950s."

"And it shows," Bella snorted, giving my hand a small tug. "Come on, babe. I would've loved to have lived on this block, but this house is just way too-"

"Hold on for a sec, Bella," I said. Standing in the center of the room, I turned in a slow circle, almost overwhelmed by so many visions dancing in my head. Stopping to face my wife, I swallowed and smiled.

"Let me ask you something. If you look beyond the dust, disrepair, and out-of-fashion layout, what do you see?"

For a moment, Bella's brow furrowed in confusion, but then, chuckling as if she'd humor me because she loved me, she turned in a slow circle as well.

"If I look beyond the dust motes, the disrepair, and the boxy layout, I see…" she stopped to face me, "I see a house that was once well-loved."

My grin grew. "The floors need to be replaced; you're right about that. But we can throw some nice area rugs over them until we find floors you'll absolutely love – the kind that are heated."

"Ooh, I would love those someday."

"And the wallpaper may be old, but we can strip it and paint as soon as possible. Maybe a nice gray."

"That's true," Bella murmured, looking at the walls. "And gray would look great here, with all these windows."

"The layout _is_ …pretty boxy," I chuckled, "and I have a feeling upstairs may be the same, but eventually, we can perform a complete renovation, inside and out."

"That might take years," Bella said.

"Yeah, but that's fine. And take a look at that fireplace and mantle, love," I whispered. "You don't see fireplaces and mantles like that anymore. That's classic. I can picture us…I can picture us setting a comfortable, plush couch right in front of that fireplace…spending cold nights laughing, talking, and keeping one another warm."

"That does sound beautiful," my wife breathed.

I swallowed. "I can picture…a Christmas tree in that corner, packed with decorations on it and presents under it for our family, for our friends…for our children, and for kids who may not receive presents otherwise. I picture good, tasteful furniture filling all the rooms down here and upstairs, the kind we may not be able to buy all at once, but the kind you've always known how to pick out with care. I can…I can smell Christmas dinner cooking in a kitchen which may be too small right now, but which we'll eventually remodel to our taste. I can smell the roast pork," I grinned, inhaling deeply. "I can see myself shelling pecans in that kitchen with you, all of us drinking a couple of beers and your mom's coquito. I can hear Emmett's booming laughter filling the house, Alice's dirty mouth followed by her chuckled apologies-"

"You and I making love upstairs, in our bedroom."

Startled out of my reverie, I looked at my wife, who'd come to stand by my side.

When she laughed at me, I picked her up in my arms and kissed her soundly, first hard then soft, the way she liked.

"Yes," I smiled against her soft lips. "Yes, I see and hear us making love upstairs in our bedroom. I bet you that, whatever it looks like now, we can turn it into a great room – and we can probably even fit a small, walk-in closet."

"Now _that_ would be wonderful since you've always had a thing for nice clothing. You can take the boy out of Central Park West, but you can't take Central Park West out of- ouch!" She chortled hard when I bit her lip, giggling through the rest of our kisses.

When we pulled away, out of breath, her smile softened. "Seriously, Edward, every morning I wake up…amazed by the man you are: generous, thoughtful, caring, hard-working, and so full of love and compassion for everyone, not just for me or for our family. So opposite from the asshole I once thought you to be."

I scowled at her, making her laugh again, but then I shrugged. "Everything I am, I am because-"

"No," she said decisively, placing a finger on my lips. "No. Don't tell me again that everything you are, you are because of me, because that's simply not true, Edward. _You_ made that Grand Gesture a few years ago, without trying to impress me with it. _You_ quit Potter & Potter, despite their offer to make you a partner, so that you could take on disadvantaged clients on a pro bono basis. _You've_ dedicated your career…and much of your resources-"

"They're _our_ resources, Mrs. Cullen," I reminded her with a raised brow.

"Our resources," she conceded shyly, "to the creation of a nonprofit." She wrapped her arms around my neck and grinned impishly. "I'm just along for the wonderful ride."

When I slapped her ass, she laughed. "Emmett is right; you're too humble about this, Edward."

"Bella, stop." With a deep sigh, I set her feet back on the old floors and raked a guilty hand through my hair. "I have…a confession to make, and I probably should've made it earlier, but…"

I told her everything; all the events that occurred on that one Christmas Eve, three years earlier. I even told her how, when I returned to my apartment in the early hours of Christmas morning, I found Mike, the regular doorman, on duty.

" _Merry Christmas, Mike!" I grinned, happier and fuller of Christmas cheer than I'd ever been in my life. "Where's George? I'd like to thank him, from the bottom of my overflowing heart," I chuckled, placing a palm on my chest, "for some advice he gave me last night. And I also have an envelope…" I patted my back pocket, searching for one of many ATM withdrawals I'd be conducting from then on._

" _Merry Christmas, Mr. Cullen!" Mike replied. "But who's George?"_

" _George," I exclaimed, "the older gentleman who was your replacement while you were on vacation last night."_

 _Mike chuckled and gave me a slight frown. "Mr. Cullen, I haven't been on vacation for years; can't afford to," he shrugged, "what with having the family to support and all."_

 _My brow furrowed. "But I…I spoke to him here last evening, and over the intercom a couple of times. He even came to my door with Little Tim."_

 _Mike's frown deepened. "Who's Little Tim, sir?"_

 _I held his gaze, but Mike didn't even blink. "Mr. Cullen…are you feeling-"_

" _Never mind, Mike," I smiled. Then, I pulled out the thick envelopes I had in my pocket and set them in Mike's hand. "Merry Christmas, Mike. There's the one I planned to give you when you returned, and…an extra one, so you and your fam can perhaps take a small vacation after all. Now, I think I'll go change. I've got to meet the most wonderful woman in the world in Brooklyn later today. We've got a busy day planned."_

 _He gave me a bewildered look, and I grinned as I walked away._

 _I heard Mike's whoops and hollers as I reached the elevator. "Thank you, Mr. Cullen! Thank you! And Merry Christmas!"_

Bella listened intently to my story. When it was done, she held my gaze. Then, she laughed.

"Come on, my love," she said soothingly as I pretend-scowled at her. Lifting herself on her tip-toes, she brushed her lips against mine. "It was a dream, babe; a beautiful dream, but just a dream."

"A dream, huh?" I smirked. "Then how do you explain my knowledge about this house and about everything else I know?"

"Sometimes," she whispered, "dreams can be extremely vivid, and when we wake, they can feel like we actually lived through them."

"It wasn't a dream, Bella, but that's not the main issue right now. The main issue is that I don't want to force you into this house just because it's where we lived before."

"Before? You mean in your dr-"

"Bella, what's that?"

"What's what?"

Out of my periphery, I saw her sweet, conciliatory smile, but my gaze had landed on the mantle over the fireplace. As I slowly made my way over, with my wife's curious gaze on me, my heart raced in my chest. With a shaking hand, I reached and stroked the glass box which rested over the mantle – a glass box that held a small, silver bell enclosed within it.

"What is that?" Bella asked, standing at my side now.

"It's a silver bell."

"A silver…? That wasn't there a few minutes ago. Wait a minute," she lifted her eyes to me, "you don't think it's the bell you saw in your dreams, do you?"

I didn't reply. Instead, with both hands, I carefully picked up the box while not daring to breathe. Then, with painstaking caution, I lifted the box higher.

"The bell doesn't have a clapper." Shutting my eyes, I exhaled in relief.

"But it looks like it has an inscription," Bella said.

My eyes popped open. Moving the box closer to me, I squinted and found that Bella was correct; small letters were etched around the bell's inner circumference.

"Ho. Lee…"

"What does it say, Edward?"

"Dear Edward _and_ Bella," I read aloud, "never forget, you make your own futures through the present you lead. Merry Christmas and congrats on the house. G."

"G?" Bella said. "Who's…" With a sharp gasp, her eyes grew wide. "G, as in… _George_?"

We held one another's gazes.

The front door suddenly swung open, groaning in loud protest the entire way.

"Bella? Edward?"

Both Bella's and my eyes swiftly panned over to where my mother-in-law stood by the door, smiling at us. She held a heavily bundled, squirming, and adorably caramel-cheeked little princess cradled in her arms.

"I'm sorry, guys," Renee chuckled, "but she woke up, and she wanted her da-"

"Daddy! Daddy!"

Our twenty-one-month-old daughter, Lily Cullen, squirmed right out of her grandmother's arms. Toddling speedily on her two little legs, she sprinted straight into my waiting arms.

"Daddy! I missidd you!"

And my heart melted, just as it had every single day since she was born, nine months after Bella and I got married, which was six months after we got together on that One Christmas Eve. Turned out, neither one of us was of a mind to wait too much for anything.

"I missed you too, my little Lily," I said shakily, kissing her forehead, "so, so much."

She giggled those sweet giggles I'd first heard in a dream…vision…bout of insanity a few years earlier.

"What is that, Daddy?" she asked in her sweet, almost two-year-old voice.

I offered her the box and helped her support it in her tiny hands.

"Pretty!"

"It is pretty," my mother-in-law agreed from across the room. "What is it?"

It was my wife who answered. "It's a housewarming gift," she said, her beautiful, dark eyes on me, "from an old friend of Edward's, and a reminder that we make our own futures. And I think…I think I'd love to build our future in this house."

"Hold that carefully," I whispered softly to Lily. Then, with my free hand, I pulled Bella close. As the three of us formed a tight circle, I kissed my wife tenderly over Lily's head. Lily giggled, but Bella and I decided before our daughter's birth that we'd show our children exactly what it was to love them _and_ one another.

"Me too," I said as a series of sighs escaped me.

Someday, if we lived a present which led us to it, our future would hold another little one within our circle. And who knew? Possibly another one beyond that one. Boys or girls? I didn't know that either. But, I kind of loved not knowing…while knowing Bella would always be by my side for the ride. Because one thing was for sure: my love for my family was instinctive; inborn on any dimension, on any plane, in dreams or in visions.

Lily placed her tiny, warm hand on my cheek and guided my eyes down to hers; eyes which were the same shade of green as mine.

"Daddy, this is home?"

I swallowed thickly and smiled. "Yes, Lily. Yes. This is home."

THE END

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A **/N: Thoughts?**

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